Paid Off
by MoonlitePage
Summary: Meeting Steve Rogers was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him, or so Bucky Barnes thought. But Steve doesn't have the same opinion of their relationship as he does and so Bucky leaves. Steve realizes his mistake, and may have a chance to prove he loves him, if he can keep Bucky safe for long enough. Stucky Mafia Prostitute AU IronHulk Tony-Bucky Friendship
1. Warnings & Triggers

Okay, so this story is M for mature and contains mature content! If you don't care, just go to the next chapter and start reading. But if you're concerned all warnings/triggers are down below to avoid spoilers! Enjoy :)

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**General Warnings:** Language, Sexual Content (referenced throughout), Violence

_~Chapter 1:_ Prostitution, Stripping

_~Chapter 2:_ Explicit Sexual Content

_~Chapter 9:_ Kidnap

_~Chapter 10:_ Imprisonment, Beatings, Violence

_~Chapter 11:_ Violence, Branding

**If you are concerned about the ending:**

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There is a happy ending.


	2. Chapter 1

It had been a slow evening. And by that JB meant it had been dull as hell. He hadn't had even one client yet and it was already getting late. He was considering moving to a different location when a car pulled up at the curb. The driver, the only man in the car, wheeled down his window and JB perked up. "I'm looking for JB?" The driver said.

JB got up and practically sashayed over to the car. He leaned against it with a little smirk on his face. "Why are you looking for him?" JB asked pleasantly.

"Looking for a little BJ." He answered and JB smiled. He stepped around the car and took a seat in the passenger side, though he kept his foot in the door to keep it open a crack. Just encase the guy tried to pull something. He held out his hand and the man held up a stack of bills. He took half and then gave it to JB. A quick count said it was $200.

_"Good enough as a deposit."_ JB decided as he pocketed it and got settled properly into the seat, including closing the car door fully and putting on his seatbelt. "Where we goin'?" He asked as he did.

The man didn't answer and just started driving. JB studied him for a few moments until it became obvious the man didn't want to talk. So he just rolled his eyes and looked out the window. He preferred a little chit chat himself during a ride, so he could know a little more about his client and their tastes beforehand, but if the man didn't want to talk JB wasn't going to make him.

Instead he just kept track of where they went. The drive took a solid fifteen minutes and JB knew walking back was going to be a pain. He hoped $400 would be worth it (and if not, he could usually get a little more out of his client after the fact). They reached a nightclub, one JB hadn't been to before and that looked decently busy. The man stopped in front of the… was that a valet? For a night club?

His client got out without a word and JB watched him go. He was sorely tempted to say something about rude behavior but only sighed and got out of the car himself. The man handed off the keys and led him inside without a word. The club was busy and almost certainly mafia or gang run given what JB could see going on (namely gambling and the collection of scantily clad women adorning half the chairs that were a rare combination outside of the mafia/gang run joints). Not that it mattered too much to him; a little riskier but it usually meant better pay which was always nice. He stayed close to his client as they walked through the main floor. He figured they would head to the back rooms used by the mafia's escorts.

The bar was on a raised platform off to the right and looked particularly busy. The floor itself was filled with tables, all of which were at least occupied and there were a few that had card games going. Towards the back left was an almost lounge-like area tucked into a raised alcove; it had the most men in suits (bodyguards), including one older man that was probably the boss of the joint. And to the back right of the room was a stage, including an unoccupied stripper pole and an occupied DJ booth. It was to the alcove he was led.

"Sir." His client (though JB was beginning to doubt that) greeted the boss. "This is him."

JB knew an introduction when he heard it and stepped forward. "I'm assuming you're my client for the evening, then?" He questioned, making sure to keep his tone light and playful.

The boss motioned for him to come closer with a crook of a finger and so he stepped up into the alcove. There were two scantily clad women seated on the booth seat too, one on either side of the boss, and both eyeing him with distaste. Well, JB didn't care what they thought about him either; they weren't his client.

The boss was looking him over from head to toe and JB let him before he leaned over the table, resting his head on his heads. "I should warn you, I don't like being misled and I don't do public." He informed the man.

"No?" The boss seemed pleased so far and didn't sound unhappy. After he studied JB for a few moments longer he said "Can you dance?"

"Depends." JB answered smoothly, despite the unexpected question.

"On?" The man asked with a little smile. They both knew this game, good.

"What kind of dancing you want from me and how much you're willing to pay." JB informed him pleasantly.

The boss's gaze flicked to the stage (he had an excellent view of it, of course). "Just a little strip tease and I'll up your total to $1000." He said.

JB paused for a moment. That was a lot of money just to show off some skin. So he leaned forward a little further. "Sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?" He asked.

"No catch. You don't even have to be nude." The boss said.

JB had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to end well, but still. $1000 for a little skin was a lot of money that he couldn't pass up. "My policy is half up front." He informed the boss.

The man pulled out a stack of cash and quickly counted out the money, in hundreds. JB kept the silent _"show off"_ to himself. He slid it over to JB, who quickly double counted. $300, plus the $200 from earlier made half. JB kissed it without breaking eye contact then stood and pocketed it. He wove through the ground floor to the DJ booth.

"I have a song request." He said and the DJ, a young looking boy who barely looked old enough to be legal, glanced at the boss. Who must have given his consent because the kid nodded. So he gave him his request.

It took the DJ a few moments to find it and then he said "Cued up next."

"Thank you." JB purred before he moved over to the stage steps. He loosened a few articles of clothing, like his boots laces, and tucked the money into his underwear along with his (admittedly expired) licence and the torn, singed piece of paper that wouldn't mean a thing to anyone else but him. It was basically everything important he owned, aside from his few clothes and a backpack stored in the cheap hotel room he was currently calling home.

He didn't have long to wait before the song started and in that time a number of people had gathered around the stage, or at least turned to watch him. JB started out slow, almost just stretching in time to the music as he worked off his jacket and let it fall. He took slow steps towards the pole as his shirt joined the jacket (that got a pleasant murmur from the crowd).

He toed off his boots and shimmed out of his pants with his back to the audience, showing off his booty in the tight black underwear he always wore while working (more pleased responses at that). Then he slipped the boots back on and laid on his back as he tied them back up. He kicked up to his feet, just to show off his athleticism a little, and got some cheers and catcalls from the audience. He knew he looked good in just his boots and underwear (at least, according to a number of his clients) and used that to his advantage.

He looked through the audience as he finally approached the pole and started running his hands over it, testing it for himself. One person in particular caught his eyes; a tall, muscular blond at the bar with blue enough eyes he could see it across the room and who was watching him with a slightly predatory expression. After giving the blond a wink JB pulled himself up and started dancing on the pole properly. It had been ages since he'd last been able to dance, even like this, and it felt wonderful to just let the music lead him.

The song lasted an eternity in his mind and he ended standing pressed to the pole, hiding half of his face behind his hands. But not so much that he couldn't give the blond another wink once the song was done. He didn't bow, just stepped back and scooped up his clothes with deliberate grace as some of the audience clapped and more of them catcalled.

He took the time to get redressed before weaving his way back to the boss's table. This trip was a lot more eventful; he had several men proposition him and a few just outright grabbed him in places that, if he were more self conscious, would have certainly made him blush scarlett. And all the while JB could feel the blond from the bar still watching his every move. It was a shame he probably already had a client for tonight (the boss, at that) or he would absolutely proposition the man at the bar. That gaze promised an excellent night.

The boss looked decidedly more lecherous this time when JB joined him in the alcove. "Very impressive." He praised and JB smirked.

"Oh, I've got talents in more than just dancing, but I'm glad you enjoyed the show." JB replied playfully.

"I'm sure. And I'm hoping you could put those talents to use helping me with a little problem." The man didn't need to clarify as he shifted, leaning back and spreading his legs.

"I don't do that in public." JB reminded.

"I'm paying you $1000. You'll do whatever I say you will." The man said and JB sighed softly. There is was. The catch. There was always a damn catch.

Rather than argue JB straightened up and pulled the money from his waistband. He carefully showed each bill to the boss as he set them down until he had only one $100 left. He pushed the other bills back to the man. "I'm keeping this for the strip show and you wasting my time." He informed the boss as he pocketed the hundred dollar bill before he turned on his heels and walked away.

He was both expecting to get stopped and wasn't. Well, he was expecting to get stopped. Just not by getting punched in the face hard enough to knock him over. He knew he hit head head on something (the ground, maybe, or the alcove step) because he was a little dizzier than the punch called for as he laid on the ground. Even if it did hurt like a bitch. It had been a while since he'd been punched like that; he'd forgotten how much it hurt. Although the dizziness might have just been because he didn't eat or drink enough, now that he thought about it.

He was almost immediately hauled to his feet by two of the bodyguards in suits, which didn't help his sense of balance at all. "You don't get to just walk out." The boss declared and JB raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? You've got your money so I haven't been paid to do anything more." He asked earnestly. He was feeling a little light headed, which may have had something to do with it, but mostly he knew it was just his natural sass. It had gotten him into a number of tricky situations in the past and was looking to do it again.

The boss seemed surprised by that answer and one of the bodyguards went to hit him. JB flinched, eyes closed as he waited for it, but the blow didn't come. He opened his eyes slowly and to his surprise there, stood in front of him, was the blond from the bar. He had caught the punch and shoved the bodyguard's arm down without a word. After a moment he faced JB and stepped closer, almost chest to chest with him.

The blond touched his chin gently and used it to tilt his head around, studying the probably already forming bruise. "You shouldn't let your guards hit men with such pretty faces." The blond declared before he let go and turned around to face the boss.

The boss looked paler than before, and the other bodyguard didn't object when JB yanked his arm free. He felt his jaw himself and was relieved there didn't seem to be any extra damage beyond soreness, though the bruise might make finding business tricky for a few days. "Sir. I… I didn't expect to see you here so soon or I would have given you a proper welcome." The boss scrambled to say as he quickly stood.

JB raised an eyebrow and glanced at the blond, still positioned between them. He was even more handsome up close and his clothes, while casual, were obviously expensive. The blond just hummed noncommittally then turned back around to face JB. He studied JB's face and JB preened a little, showing off some of his features in a subtle way. Whatever he saw the blond seemed to like because his pupils had started to dilate. JB could relate; it was rare he got aroused just by someone checking him out anymore, but the blond could do it.

"Since you don't seem to want him, how much for a night?" The blond asked seductively.

JB used the opportunity to check out the blond a bit more obviously. "I usually ask for $400 but I think I could give you a discount for three." JB offered and the man smiled. He reached out and with light fingers traced JB's jaw and lips.

"And what does that get me?" The blond asked as he stepped closer, putting them almost chest to chest again.

"A blowjob." JB answered, and let his confidence speak for the quality.

"And what about more?" The blond lowered his voice a little and it sent a shiver down JB's spine. He reached up and started playing with the blond's jacket collar.

"Let's just start with the $300 and see where the night goes." He purred before meeting the blond's eyes again. The blond seemed to approve, given the little smirk on his lips, and he wrapped an arm around JB's shoulders to turn him around. Without even looking at the boss the blond led him away. Well, JB wasn't going to complain. The blond made for much better company and was looking to make for a much better night too.

They hadn't gone far before JB leaned in a little bit and took in the scent of the man's cologne. "What are you doing?" The blond asked, obviously amused at the action.

"Seeing what kind of night we're going to have." JB answered lightly and the man chuckled.

"Based on my cologne?" He questioned skeptically and JB nodded. The blond's smirk widened. "What kind of night are we going to have then?" He asked and JB smiled widely.

"A _very_ good one." He purred.


	3. Chapter 2

JB was not surprised in the slightest by the blond's choice in vehicle. Black, luxury brand, tinted windows, nice seats, expensive speakers, a television, and even a small fridge (with good alcohol most likely). Of course, most of his observations were made in passing as the moment they got into the car the blond pulled him into his lap.

JB settled there and let his arms rest on the blond's shoulders as his hands were gripping JB's waist. The car started moving without either of them needing to say a word. "What's your name, baby?" The blond asked and he smiled.

"Call me JB." He said.

"What's it short for? Blow job backwards?" The blond teased but JB just chuckled along.

"That's the joke." He confirmed before he leaned in a little and whispered into his ear. "But it's actually my initials." He informed the man like ie was a national secret. The hands on his waist tightened a little and JB ground his hips down in response.

"J. B." The blond sounded out slowly, like he was considering what they might stand for, and JB nodded as he pulled back from his ear.

He played with the man's beautiful hair before asking "And what should I call you?"

"My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me sir or even daddy, if you like." Steve purred, and JB had to admit. The man might have a better purr than he does. JB just smiled and pushed his hips down harder, grinding their hardons together in a way that made both their breaths hitch a little.

"Well then, daddy…" JB murmured into his ear. "Where should we begin?" He asked softly. He didn't get an actual answer, but he didn't need one. Steve's fingers were tight in his hair in a matter of moments and Steve guided JB to his lips. JB responded eagerly, settling against the larger man further. He was helped by the arm Steve had wrapped around his hips, tightening until there was practically no space between their hips. The constant pressure was fantastic and horrible in equal measure. JB was not about to complain.

Their kiss was incredibly steamy and didn't slow down during the car ride at all. They only paused briefly enough to get through the lobby. JB didn't even know what the name of the hotel or building was and he didn't care because the moment the elevator doors closed he was up against the wall being kissed so passionately his brain was melting.

Again, they paused briefly when the elevator stopped at their floor to walk a short distance to Steve's room. It was a private penthouse on one of the upper floors, which explained why the elevator hadn't stopped along the way, JB realized absentmindedly. And then he was pressed up against the penthouse door, this time with his legs wrapped around Steve's waist, and he stopped thinking altogether.

JB didn't, almost couldn't (not that he wanted to), fight when Steve pulled his shirt off. And then those large warm hands were running all over his torso. Steve's mouth separated from his only to begin making its way down his neck. JB wrapped his arms around Steve's head, holding him close and encouraging him to continue.

Steve obviously knew was he was doing when he took one of JB's nipples into his mouth, drawing a long groan from the brunet almost immediately. Then he was peeled off the door and could only hang on as Steve carried him into another room without pausing in his ministrations. A bedroom, JB assumed, considering he found himself dumped onto a bed.

JB took the moment to catch his breath while Steve kicked off his shoes then stripped his shirt. And immediately JB lost his breath again at the sight; the man was all muscle and there were a few tattoos dotting his skin that JB really wanted to trace with his tongue (especially the one leading down from Steve's belly button and disappearing into his pants).

Steve paused when he noticed JB watching and let him look his fill. How considerate. JB made a move first and tugged off his boots, tossing them aside without a care. His belt came off as he got up from the bed and he ditched his socks while approaching Steve. He started by placing a kiss on Steve's collarbone then followed the man's torso down, pausing at each nipple and nibbling at his bellybutton, undoing Steve's belt as he went.

When he finished he was on his kneeling almost between the man's legs, his nose inches from Steve's bulge. He slid Steve's pants down slowly, tracing the muscle lines in his legs as he did, and the blond kicked them aside once they reached his ankles. JB took a moment to palm Steve's bulge (the man was impressive, even covered) before he slid Steve's underwear down too.

Steve was obviously hard (of course, so was he) and JB didn't waste time. No, he just took Steve in his mouth as far as he was able, and he could do a sight better than most. Even so it took him a few thrusts to get Steve's member all the way, but Steve didn't seem disappointed given the way his hands were gripping JB's hair just shy of too painful. Steve started guiding him and JB let him lead the pace. His own cock was painfully tight in his pants, but seeing as he was holding onto Steve's legs for balance he would just have to wait.

"You're good, baby." Steve praised and JB hummed around his cock, which prompted a breathy "shit" from Steve, who quickened the pace.

JB's jaw was starting to get sore, not unexpectedly especially considering the punch from earlier and how far he had to stretch to fit Steve's member, when Steve suddenly pulled out. "What...?" JB started to ask, only to meet Steve's eyes. They were almost black and decidedly predatory. JB was dragged up from the floor and backed onto the bed.

Almost as soon as he hit it Steve was pulling his pants off, followed quickly by his underwear. And then Steve was laying over him, guiding him briefly further up the bed so they were both on it comfortably, before Steve was kissing him again. It was less elegant than before, with a little more tongue and a lot more teeth, but JB wasn't about to complain.

JB lightly ran his nails up Steve's back and got a groan into his mouth. Steve retaliated by grinding down against him, skin on skin, and JB's back arched back. JB's fingers found a home in Steve's hair as they continued to kiss and grind, and it wasn't until one of Steve's fingers found a home in his hole that JB noticed their absence.

The sudden intrusion made him keen and he had to pull back from the kiss just to try and catch his breath. Steve chuckled against his neck, where his teeth were making marks. "Any objections?" Steve murmured.

"No." JB replied breathlessly and immediately, and he really didn't. Another finger joined the first and then Steve was scissoring him with experienced practice. It sent JB's mind reeling. It didn't take much before Steve added a third and then, finally, JB got the real thing. It was a lot, almost certainly the biggest he'd ever had, but despite everything Steve took it cautiously enough not to hurt him. In fact he was going so slowly JB groaned in frustration. "God damn, please just… fuck me." He pleaded.

Steve's little smirk should have been a warning, but JB first didn't care and then couldn't as Steve shoved the rest of the way in all at once. It drew a cry from JB's mouth, but not an objection, and then Steve was fucking him. There was no other way to describe it. It was rough and fast and JB was surprised every thrust didn't make the whole bed move. It certainly made him move.

It was wonderful, but there was one slight adjust that needed to be made. JB shifted slightly and started moving his legs. After a moment Steve figured out what he was trying to do and pulled JB's legs over his shoulders, bending the smaller man in almost half as he leaned over him again. The next thrust was noticeably deeper and easily struck the right place to draw a gasping "yes, there" from JB.

Steve's pace increased, though the force behind his thrusts didn't (it didn't need to), and shortly JB was only capable of murmured swear words and pleas of "yes!" He knees and legs were practically quivering and his cock was pulsing. "I'm gonna…" He started to say, only for Steve to nip his neck.

"Not yet." He was ordered and he whined. He couldn't recall ever wanting to cum more in his life. Thankfully the wait wasn't long before Steve whispered "Cum for me, baby." He did. JB couldn't even make a noise as several waves of pleasure coursed through him and he stayed conscious long enough to feel Steve cum too, leaving his insides warm and wet. And then he blacked out.

* * *

Steve ran a hand through his sweaty hair as he sat up panting. He was utterly sated and, given that JB had fainted during his climax, assumed the smaller man was too. It had been ages since someone had been able to satisfy him like this and he hadn't been expecting nearly this much from some random off the street, no matter how good looking he was.

He brushed the longer strands of brown hair off JB's handsome face (the man seriously needed a haircut though it had come in handy during the blowjob) and shifted his hips experimentally. The movement drew a soft groan from the brunet, but didn't wake him. Steve considered him for a moment before he came to a decision.

It took a little bit of reach without pulling out accidentally, but he snagged a butt plug from inside his bedside table (an expensive, good sized, metal one that even had a jewel). He pulled out slowly, since he didn't want to genuinely hurt JB, and slipped the butt plug in using his semen for lube. The brunet barely even stirred. Steve had been surprised JB hadn't asked about using a condom, but he was glad now. Steve was able to mark him as his this way and he planned to keep him, at least for a while.


	4. Chapter 3

There were some definite benefits to being a mafia boss's kept man. He always had a warm, not to mention comfortable, place to sleep. There was no shortage of money for food or clothes or pretty much anything else he wanted. He was protected on the streets (hell, he even had a bodyguard). And the sex was fantastic. Even when Steve got rough he never intentionally caused JB any serious harm, and JB certainly didn't mind the bruises and bitemarks.

Even outside the bedroom they were surprisingly compatible. They had a shared love of music (they played together frequently; JB on the piano and Steve on his guitar) and loved watching television or movies together and they were always cooking together (once Steve taught him how anyway). They could relax together and tease each other and it was so much more than just great sex. JB had never been happier in his life.

And then he walked in to Steve sitting on the couch with another man in his lap.

In a movie, JB might have dropped the grocery bags he held, but instead he found himself frozen stiff. Steve glanced over as the other guy just kept bouncing and moaning, obviously caught up in the pleasure. JB did his best to put on a blank expression. "So." JB finally said. "This is it?" He asked stiffly.

"Oh come on, JB, don't be like that." Steve replied, sounding almost slightly aspirated. "This was always temporary." He added.

JB couldn't say why but that brought his rage surging forward. He dropped the grocery bags deliberately roughly as he nodded. "Right, well then." He snatched up his backpack from its resting place by the door and silently noted the irony in the fact he'd never actually unpacked it as he slung it over his shoulder.

"Hey, hold on. That envelope is for you." Steve had already turned his attention back to the man in his lap, but still called those words over his shoulder. JB slowly picked up the manila envelope on the table by the door. Inside was… cash. A lot of it, in hundreds. "Your pay." Steve tossed without looking back.

And JB's rage exploded. He stalked over and emptied the whole envelope onto Steve's head before he let the envelope fall to. "I don't want your damn money." He spat before he went to the door. He didn't intend to stop, but he paused in the doorway.

Steve actually met his eyes when he looked back, and he looked slightly confused but in no way repentant. "You are a heartless, soulless, bastard and I thought that maybe this actually meant something to you like it was starting to for me, but I guess I was wrong. Have a nice life, jerk!" He spat before he slammed the door behind him.

It wasn't until he was in the elevator going down that the tears started and JB ruthlessly wiped them away. _"I will not shed tears over Steve goddamn Rogers!"_ He insisted silently. They had stopped by the time he hit the lobby and he stalked out the front door without pausing.

"Hey, JB, wait!" The voice made him pause just outside and he glanced at the speaker. It was Clint Barton, of course, still dressed in his casual attire from their earlier outing and he was hurrying over to JB's side. "You know I'm supposed to go with you when you go out." Clint reminded and JB just shifted his feet.

He could see the moment the backpack registered. "I doubt your boss cares about me anymore, Clint. Thanks for everything, but you'd better get back to your post in case his new boytoy decides he wants to go somewhere." JB pat his shoulder, offering him a sad smile, and then walked away. JB was just the tiniest bit surprised and disappointed Clint didn't follow.

How long JB walked he didn't know, but somehow he found himself in the business district. People hurried by dressed mostly in suits or expensive professional attire. A few gave him odd looks, but a sharp glare was enough to ward them off speaking to him. Finally he took a seat on a massive set of steps that led to some important building (he didn't care which) and buried his face in his hands. He wasn't going to cry; he wasn't.

And thankfully he didn't have a chance to as a voice said "Bucky?" His head snapped up like a whip and there stood Tony. Tony Stark. A man JB- Bucky. A man Bucky hadn't seen since high school. He looked good; dressed in a nice tailored suit he filled out well. His hair was carefully styled. The only thing that stood out were the dark circles under his eyes, but if Bucky remembered correctly Tony just didn't sleep much on a regular basis by default. He was glad; Tony was a good guy and he deserved a good life. "It is you. God, it's been ages. How are you?" Tony continued as he stepped closer.

Bucky shrugged dismissively. "Been alright. You?" He asked, and he felt a little bad at the lackluster tone he was able to produce. He had thought he was a better actor than this before now. Tony's expression shifted to concern as he took in Bucky's backpack and face.

"Been good. Hey, why don't you come get lunch with me? We can catch up." Tony suggested suddenly. Bucky hesitated before he sighed.

"You know what? That actually sounds nice." He agreed as he got up. Much to his surprise, Tony offered his arm and Bucky accepted it. Neither of them spoke as they walked, but for the moment they didn't need to.

* * *

The door slamming shut behind JB had given his farewell a sense of finality that Steve couldn't shake. His partner, whose name Steve couldn't remember anymore, paused at it too and whistled slightly. "Damn, he's a drama queen. What got his panties in a knot?" The man muttered and Steve couldn't help bristling defensively.

He pushed up, silencing his partner with the thrust, and the man was quick to pick his bouncing rhythm back up. But Steve just wasn't into it anymore. His frustration wasn't fading and his interest had dwindled to none. He lifted the man off easily enough mid-bounce and let him fall to the floor as he stood.

"Ow, hey!" He objected, only to fall silent at the sharp look Steve gave him.

"Get out." He ordered. The man hesitated for only a brief moment before he stood up. He lingered long enough to collect his clothes, muttering discontentedly under his breath all the while, before he walked out. Steve sighed and glanced around at the mess of bills all over the couch. He didn't need to, the maids would clean up the mess when they came, but he started picking up the bills anyway.

Setting them in a neat stack on the coffee table he realized quickly that JB genuinely hadn't taken even a single bill. What a waste. Well, it wasn't his problem anymore. He reached under the couch and pulled out... more than just money. There were three polaroids along with the bills. Steve shifted without looking away from them, moving to sit on the floor and ignoring the way the coffee table bit into his back.

They were out of order, of course. The first was of him, getting up from the couch ready to go after JB and his camera. The second was the picture that had prompted the first: a candid picture of him, sitting calmly on the couch reading a book and completely unaware of the camera. And the last was of JB, pinned to the floor and laughing happily after Steve had caught him and stolen the camera. It put a small smile on Steve's face to see JB so utterly happy, a smile which he quickly suppressed with a scoff and the pictures dismissively joined the bills on the table.

He stood without a real destination in mind, and his eyes naturally landed on the piano. It had belonged to his mother before she passed and though he couldn't play he had refused to let it go. And so it had sat there for ages, silent, until the day he walked in to JB playing it. He was absolutely incredible, certainly on a professional level, and Steve had asked him to play a number of times after that. He had always agreed.

Shaking his head Steve forced himself to look away, but everywhere he eyes landed he was reminded of JB. The kitchen brought to mind the time he had spent teaching JB how to cook, and the student had quickly surpassed his teacher in that arena (God, Steve hadn't realized how wonderful having someone waiting at home with a warm homemade meal was until JB). The couch and all the hours they had spent there, from cuddling during a movie to the sex. Considering it he realized practically every section of the room had been subject to their not-so-bedroom-based activities.

Finally Steve couldn't take it and ducked into his bedroom with his eyes closed. He refused to feel guilty. It wasn't like they had been dating or even serious. JB was a _prostitute_. A callboy. A short-term fling that he had paid for. Except… JB hadn't taken the money. "Damn it." Steve straightened up and opened his eyes, only to be hit by more memories.

Of JB curled up on the bed napping or casually stretched out, nude and waiting for him with that infuriating little smirk of his. Sometimes on his knees showing off the butt plug he had worn pretty much constantly since Steve put it in. Or the times when JB danced around his bedroom, both nude and dressed (Steve loved watching his body move). The few times Steve had convinced him to model for a sketch.

And their bathroom, with all it's fun and sweet moments. The mundane things like brushing their teeth together in the mornings. Comforting things like bathing one another. And of course there was a fair share of fun they had too. Steve could just see the dildo stuck to the shower wall he had used more than once to torment JB into pleading for _his_ cock.

Steve slid to the ground with his back pressed to the door, unable to shut out the memories whether his eyes were open or closed. He was a fucking mafia boss, for gods sake, he shouldn't be capable of getting a broken heart. And yet, there was no other explanation for it. JB leaving broke his heart and it was his own damn fault for not realizing sooner that the brunet was enough. More than enough.

"Damn it." Steve repeated before he pulled out his phone and called Clint.

"Yes, sir?" He answered immediately.

"Tell me you're with JB." He ordered. Maybe pleaded. Prayed. He couldn't tell anymore.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm not. He was rather insistent I didn't follow him when he left." Clint answered and he did sound sorry.

Didn't stop Steve from getting angry. "Damn it!" Steve slammed a fist into the ground. "Clint, I want him found. Now." He ordered.

"Yes, sir. Should I call in the spider?" Clint offered. He sounded almost pleased by the order and Steve was suddenly hit by the realization that JB had even managed to make Clint, antisocial workaholic my-past-is-hell-and-you-shouldn't-get-to-know-me Clint, his friend.

"Call in _everyone_ if you think it's necessary. I want him found, Clint, before anything happens to him." He snapped before he ended the call and tossed his phone aside. He realized then that his hands were shaking. The last time his hands had shaken like this had been while his mother was in emergency surgery in the hospital. The surgery that had failed and ended up costing her life.

He realized he was _afraid_. Actually afraid, that something would happen to JB. That something would happen and he wouldn't see him again. Maybe never even know what had happened. "Damn it." He whispered again, but this time he was definitely damning himself.


	5. Chapter 4

Tony led him to an expensive restaurant and didn't even pause at the host's stand before leading Bucky to a table. There was a man already seated there and Tony pulled away from Bucky to kiss his cheek. "Hello Brucie, hope you don't mind. I brought an extra." Tony said as he claimed the seat next to the man.

"An extra?" Bruce glanced from Tony to Bucky, who gave a little wave before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Oh, um, hi. I'm Bruce Banner, his boyfriend." He introduced as he offered a hand.

Bucky shook it and considered for a moment what name to give. He'd been using JB for so long it was almost instinct to say that. But Tony interrupted before he had the chance. "This is Bucky Barnes. We knew each other in high school." Tony said as Bucky took a seat opposite the other two.

Bruce looked at Bucky then back to Tony. "Is he… talent show piano player Bucky?" Bruce asked and Tony snorted while Bucky groaned.

"Oh my god, I'd forgotten about that. I still can't believe you talked me into it, Tony." Bucky said, but if he were honest it actually felt really great to think about. Things had been, well, simpler in a way in high school. A lot of innocent mischief without any serious consequences.

"Hey, I didn't _talk_ you into anything." Tony objected immediately and Bucky looked at him.

"No, that's right. You bribed me with a blowjob to play piano in my underwear for the school talent show. And I did it." Bucky said, adding the extra details for Bruce's benefit and the other man covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

"And they should have thanked me for." Tony finally countered. "The whole school got to take a look at the lovely piece of meat that is Bucky Barnes. And I see that hasn't changed either. Still as fit as you ever were." Tony said and Bucky shrugged.

"My job keeps me pretty active, but I certainly try. Depends on how much I have to eat for the month." Bucky admitted and Tony paused, his expression furrowing.

"Did something happen? I remember you kind of just… disappeared pretty shortly after graduation." Tony asked and Bucky sighed.

He rubbed his face and picked up one of the waters on the table, taking a drink before he finally felt able to speak. "My father… kinda… kicked me out." He finally offered. It had been way worse than that (involving a serious shouting match and a panicked, rushed midnight flee) but Bucky was not about to get into that.

"Really? I remember you didn't exactly get along. Was there a specific reason or…?" Tony asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Simple answer is that he found out I was gay." Bucky answered and Tony flinched. He was one of the few with first-hand knowledge of exactly how homophobic Bucky's father really was. Bucky wouldn't tell Tony, ever, but it was actually because of their brief tryst he'd been found out. But he didn't blame Tony for that; _he_ hadn't been careful enough.

Bruce suddenly reached out and touched his hand. "That's not easy to go through. I'm sorry." Bruce said and Bucky shrugged.

"It's whatever at this point. The past is past and all that. And I... well, I was doing alright for myself until today." He said.

"What happened?" Tony asked and Bucky paused. What he'd done… It had never bothered him before; it had been born out of necessity but he genuinely did try to enjoy the work. But these two were a different breed. They might not understand the why. But as he looked between them he could only see sympathy.

"Well, long story short, I kind of work... Worked? As a prostitute. It was the only way I could think of to make the money I needed without my father trying to ruin my life. Anyway, I got hired by a guy and spent practically a month living with him, all expenses paid. I… well, I thought it had become more than just a job. Then today I walked in on him having sex with another guy and the envelope of money he offered was evidence enough he was done with me." Bucky picked up the water again and downed most of it to avoid looking at their faces.

They were silent for a long time and finally Bucky risked glancing up. Bruce looked shocked, but sympathetic and Tony was typing rapidly on his phone, which he put away when he noticed Bucky watching. "Sorry, was just settling the issue of your residence." He said.

"Tony." Bruce questioned, almost scolded.

"What?" Tony replied. He looked between Bucky and Bruce before continuing at Bruce's look. "Well, come on. Obviously he needs a place to stay and it's not like we've got any shortage of rooms at our place. Seemed simple enough to just have him come to our house. I was just ordering some extra food and clothes." Tony added dismissively.

Bruce sighed, but there was a fond smile on his face. "Tony, you know you'll ruin your uncaring reputation by doing things like this." He warned and Tony just sighed. He leaned over, wrapped an arm around the other man's shoulders, and pressed their foreheads together.

"You know I stopped caring about that the moment I met you, don't you?" Tony said softly, in a compassionate tone Bucky would never have imagined he could use, and Bruce smiled as he nodded. He set his hands on Tony's face, gently stroking his skin with his thumbs.

"I know." Bruce replied softly.

Bucky turned away, looking anywhere else but the pair of them. It hurt to see them so sweet on each other. And they deserved it, they really did. Maybe he didn't and that's why everything good in his life fell apart. It would explain a lot. _"I'll only stay long enough to get myself a ticket out."_ He decided. The last thing he wanted was to bring Tony or Bruce down with him.

A waiter came by then and they ordered quickly. Bucky told Tony to order for him and spent the rest of the meal listening to the pair talk about science. It was fascinating, even if he didn't understand half of it. Tony was obviously deeply involved in all kinds of technology while Bruce, as far as Bucky could tell, was involved with medical radiation research. He was very much out of his depth.

He listened with one ear while dedicating the back of his brain to considering locations to go. Anywhere out of the country wasn't an option since he didn't have his passport anymore. Hawaii and Alaska were easy outs. Too far. So was anywhere in New York, considering he wanted to get out of state. LA might be good for jobs beyond just prostitution, but it was also pretty far. Vegas was a little better (at least prostitution was legal in Nevada) and maybe he could get a job playing piano for one of the shows instead.

"Bucky!" He jumped at the voice and looked towards Tony, who had called his name probably not for the first time. "You haven't touched your food." He said and Bucky glanced down to realize he did have a plate of food in front of him.

"Sorry, was just... thinking." He said as he took a quick bite of the pasta. It was good, but of course Bucky hadn't expected any different from a restaurant this expensive. He also hadn't realized how hungry he was until he had that first bite and he started eating a little more diligently. Tony and Bruce both watched him silently, obviously concerned. "What?" He finally asked when he couldn't stand the staring anymore.

"I'm worried about you, Bucky." Tony said and that made Bucky pause. Maybe something had changed (it had been probably six years or more since he'd last seen Tony so it was likely) but the Tony he knew would never admit to being concerned about another human being. It didn't mean he wasn't, but he never said it.

"I can handle myself." Bucky promised and Tony sighed heavily.

"Bucky." Tony paused then continued. "Listen, okay? I know how you feel. I felt like that for a long time and it wasn't until I met Bruce that I realized how utterly screwed up it was making me. You haven't lived an easy life, but that doesn't mean you don't have friends. Even if no one else does, Bruce and I care and we want to help. You don't _have_ to make it all on your own, even if you can."

Bucky slowly set down his fork and looked between them. They were both earnest. They really meant it. Not that Bucky had doubted that, but still. "I just…" Bucky sighed. "Honestly, Tony, all I really want right now is to get out of this city. Go somewhere and work a job that isn't all about sex and just… try to make something of myself." He said.

"Okay. So, plane tickets, probably. A car, maybe. A place to stay and a job, definitely. I can do that. Do you still play piano?" Tony asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Try to when I can, but I'm a little out of practice." He admitted and Tony waved him off.

"I'm sure I know someone who could hook you up with a job. What kind would you like? Piano teacher? Orchestra-based? Music for Hollywood? Or something else entirely, doesn't have to be piano though I think I'd be a shame to waste that talent." Tony offered and Bucky hesitated.

"Tony, that's an awful lot for you to do for me." He said and Tony shrugged.

"You're my friend and after what you did for me in high school…" Tony glanced at Bruce who squeezed his hand. Apparently Bruce had been told that horror story; good for Tony, to be that brave. "Well, it's the least I can do." Tony finished.

Bucky looked between them and sighed heavily. He pulled off his ball cap and ran his hand through his hair before putting it back on. "Well, thank you. This is… more than I probably deserve, but thank you. Is there anything I can do to pay you back?" He asked.

He didn't trust Tony's sudden smile at all. "Well, you can get a haircut for one." He said and Bucky pouted playfully.

"But I like my long hair." He complained lightly and Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, it makes you look like a street urchin. We need to shine you back into the gem you were in high school. Though…" Tony paused and studied his face carefully for a few minutes. "I think you'll probably surpass that easily enough."

Bucky laughed until he couldn't quite breathe and there were tears in his eyes. He took a moment to wipe them away, reminiscing briefly on the very different reason he'd been drying tears earlier, before he looked at Tony again. "Thanks, Tony" was all he could say.


	6. Chapter 5

**_TWO YEARS LATER_**

Bucky had forgotten that the air in New York didn't taste quite like air from other places. He took a moment to just breathe after stepping out of the terminal. His moment of peace didn't last long as he heard a female cry "Bucky!" The owner was easy enough to spot.

It was Pepper, of course, waving from a car window waiting in the pick up lane. Bucky smiled as he made his way over to her and kissed her cheek. "How are you, Pep?" He asked and she smiled brilliantly.

"Busy, but wonderful. And very happy to see you again. It's been too long!" She complained and he laughed.

"Sorry, couldn't drag myself away from the orchestra for long enough to visit, but there was no way I was missing Tony's wedding." He said before he took his suitcase to the trunk. It opened just as he got there and after putting away the suitcase he joined Pepper in the back seat. "Hey, Happy, how are you?" He asked their driver politely.

"Been good. It's nice to see you again." Happy said with his usual smile and Bucky was quick to smile back.

"It's nice to see you too." He returned before he noticed another person seated in the front. "Oh, hello. I don't believe we've met." He said.

"No. I'm Natalie Rushman. I work for Miss Potts." The woman was gorgeous and had a beautiful head of red hair. But she seemed nice enough and he offered his hand.

"James Barnes, but please call me Bucky." He introduced and she shook his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Bucky." She said and he nodded. He sat back against his seat as Happy pulled away from the curb and got settled next to Pepper.

"So, I don't actually know any of the details about the ceremony." He informed Pepper who gasped with mock astonishment.

She was offered a deep red binder by Natalie, which Pepper accepted quickly. "Well, we'll just have to rectify that, won't we?" She said before she opened the binder. Bucky listened as she talked about all sorts of things. The venue (the pictures were already gorgeous), the flowers, the decor, the food, the clothes. Everything was carefully planned and matched and Bucky had a feeling it was going to be a wedding to remember.

_"It's Tony Stark's wedding. Did you expect anything less?"_ Bucky silently reminded himself and couldn't help chuckling. Tony's middle name had been 'extra' for as long as Bucky had known him.

"So, Buck, there are two things we need to talk about." Pepper declared, suddenly serious, and Bucky grew concerned. "First, Bruce is going to ask you soon, but I need to make sure your suit is ready in time so I need to know now. Are you going to be his best man?"

For a few moments Bucky just blinked at her before he mumbled, "Me?"

"Of course. Aside from Tony, you're his closest friend. Didn't you know that?" Pepper asked and he shrugged weakly.

"I mean, I know we talk all the time, but I always thought that he had some friends here in New York that were closer." Bucky admitted and Pepper shook her head. Finally Bucky snapped out of his daze. "But of course I'd be honored to do it." He assured her and she smiled.

"Wonderful. And the other thing. Tony mentioned it as a joke a while back, but Happy and I both think he and Bruce would really love it if you would play at the reception. Obviously not for the whole thing, but maybe a song or two to start off the music?" Pepper asked and Bucky could never remember her looking so… unsure before.

He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'd be honored to play for them, Pepper. Did you have any songs in mind?" He asked.

She squeezed his hand back and shook her head. "I leave the song selection to you. You always seem to pick the perfect one." She said and he laughed.

"Well, maybe not always, but thanks, Pepper. I'll try my best and I'll run my choices by you as soon as I make them." He promised.

Pepper looked a little emotional and took a moment to compose herself. "Perfect. That will help me work out the timing for the reception too." She said with a professional smile and he smiled back before he let go of her hand.

"And Pep? Don't stress yourself out, okay? Whether it all goes perfectly according to plan or goes completely off script, Tony and Bruce are going to have a blast. What's most important is that they're there together and that we're there to support them." Bucky reminded and she nodded.

"I know, but after everything he's done for me I just want to make sure this goes well for Tony." She said and Bucky laughed.

"Come on, Pep, it's Tony. His motto is practically 'if things don't go at least a little off script you aren't having enough fun'. Aliens from outer space wouldn't be able ruin his big day. He'd just say it made it more memorable." Bucky reminded and Pepper started to laugh. Softly at first but before long she was laughing almost hysterically.

"You're right, you're right." She finally admitted breathlessly and Bucky nudged her with his shoulder. She took a breath and offered his a soft, genuine, heartfelt smile. "Thank you." She said softly and he nodded.

"Least I could do, Pep. It's the least I could do." He repeated just to himself as he got settled against the seat. All in all, it was a good start to the week.

* * *

The atmosphere was subdued around the office. It always seemed to be that way now. Even two years had not helped. Clint glanced at his boss's office door and sighed softly. It had been three days since he'd last come out and sooner or later Clint, hopefully with Natasha's help, was going to have to intervene. If Steve didn't get himself together…

Well, honestly that was the problem. Despite Steve's self-isolation he still ran everything perfectly. Perhaps even more so than before because he wasn't ever distracted by the men throwing themselves at him. He hadn't taken to drinking excessively (drank less, even) and hadn't touched drugs though he certainly could have them if he wanted. He took care of himself, exercised, ate, showered, all the motions of a normal human.

It was a problem because Clint knew this obsession wasn't healthy, and yet nothing about it seemed unhealthy. Clint sighed a little heavier. Maybe he'd push up that talk with Natasha to today, as soon as she got back. Assuming she came back. She'd been disappearing more and more lately and Clint had the feeling she was on to something, but for which of the half dozen projects she was working he didn't know.

"Clint, come in here please." Steve asked through the intercom and Clint was quick to obey. Steve was sitting at his desk. Even from this distance Clint could tell the papers there weren't related to the JB search (those all had a dedicated binder/paper color and were currently resting in their place on the shelf, thankfully).

"Yes, sir?" He asked and Steve motioned him closer. The papers on his desk were about an upcoming trade deal, but that wasn't what he was looking at. Steve was looking at the news report on his computer screen.

"What do you think of this?" Steve nodded at it. 'Tony Stark's Gay Marriage - One Week Til The Big Day' was the title.

"I don't know, sir. I imagine there are a lot of people unhappy about it, but I don't think it will have much of an impact on us in any way." Clint offered and Steve nodded, shifting back in his seat as he stared at it and Clint had the impression Steve hadn't really registered what he said. "What is it, sir?" Clint asked.

Steve shook his head. "I don't know. Something about it just… I can't shake it off." Steve said and then there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" He asked over the intercom.

"Natasha, sir." Came the answer and Steve unlocked the door with the press of a button. Natasha entered wearing an almost-disguise, the one she'd been wearing every day for nearly a month and a half. 'For an undercover job' was all she had told Clint. There was a deep red binder under her arm.

"What is it?" Steve asked and Natasha's fake smile turned into a real one.

"I have good news." She said and Steve sat up. She walked up to his desk and set down the binder. Steve flipped through it briefly before looking at Natasha.

"I don't understand. Why are you giving me a dossier for… Tony Stark's wedding?" Steve glanced at the name again and somehow sounded even more skeptical.

Natasha wasn't phased. "Look at the reception, specifically the first special guest scheduled to play live." She said.

Steve quickly found the page and frowned slightly. "James Barnes, pianist?" He read and she nodded. After the briefest moment his head snapped up. "JB?" He asked and she nodded again, a definite smirk on her face.

"Confirmed it myself today when we picked him up from the airport." She tossed a picture onto the desk and Steve practically went limp. He picked up the photo carefully, like it was the most fragile thing he had ever handled. The man in the picture was definitely JB, and yet he wasn't. His short hair was neatly cut, a little longer on top than the sides but obviously carefully styled. He carried himself differently; there was an easiness to his stance, a warmth to him that hadn't been there before. He was dressed differently, in more expensive clothes and Steve had definitely never seen him in a scarf (god, the possibilities).

But he still wore almost all black. His physique was unchanged; he was still just as built under the layers of clothes (though he had put on a healthy amount of weight). And his eyes… they were still the same lovely shade of blue Steve had never forgotten and never been able to accurately replicate in a painting. Steve was sure he could stare at the picture forever, but instead he forced himself to set it down. To look at Clint and Natasha who were both waiting for him.

But for once he didn't know what to say. What to do. JB… he looked happy. Obviously he'd settled into whatever life he'd chosen and was doing well for himself. Steve didn't know if he was selfish enough to disrupt that, especially since if he did JB might actually hate him. If he didn't already.

Then Natasha set another piece of paper down in front of him as she picked up the binder. It was… an invitation. An invitation to Stark's reception. Where JB was going to be. Where he was going to play. "And Steve?" He looked up from the invitation to Natasha, who still had a smile on her face. "He goes by Bucky now." She said with a small smile before she left the office. Clint followed her out, leaving him alone in his office.

Steve stood slowly and traced the spines of the blue binders dedicated to the JB search. He looked back at the invitation and took a breath. He had to try. He had to at least try to talk to J… Bucky. Talk to him and _apologize_. But first he needed information on one James Barnes.


	7. Chapter 6

Bucky could honestly compare the mayhem of the week to the madness that came up every time a film's release approached. But at least this was more fun and less stressful. The first evening had been a social at Tony's penthouse and a who's who of all the important wedding guests, especially those in the wedding party. The next day had been a series of fittings and adjustments that had taken hours and left Bucky exhausted.

He had a little break the following morning, but from about noon on was Tony's bachelor party. It had been an event for the ages, but despite what everyone who didn't know Tony or didn't like him were betting on, Tony was faithful. In fact, the closest he came to cheating was convincing a drunk Bucky to put on a strip show for them (which he did, happily, and would have sober if Tony had asked. Drunk just made it harder to balance). Even better, when Bucky dragged a sloshed Tony home around midnight to Bruce the billionaire was practically sobbing as he clung to his fiancee, promising over and over how much he loved him. It was sweet.

But it was Bruce's bachelor party that had been the more special of the two, at least in Bucky's opinion. It was made up of just a small group, but everyone in it loved Bruce dearly (the only absent figure was Tony and he was no doubt pouting like a professional in his lab the whole time). And they were all more than happy to celebrate with a quiet evening of movies and boardgames (including one inappropriate one that Tony had convinced Bucky to take which, just as he'd promised, made Bruce scarlet; Bucky sent him a picture).

But the moment that stood out most clearly was Bruce, nervous and stumbling over his words, as he asked, in the most sincere way, Bucky to be his best man. Which was answered with an enthusiastic "yes" and solidified with a number of hugs between all of them there.

And then Bucky was praising Pepper and the ground she walked on as she had left his fifth day free. Bucky needed it to recover from both bachelor parties and to practice his songs. He'd struggled and struggled to decide on the right ones and was on the verge of tearing his hair out over it when it came to him. The perfect doubleheader for Bruce and Tony. And he spent the rest of the day practicing.

His fingers were still sore at the rehearsal dinner the next day, but as he and Pepper had decided to keep his little performance a surprise he hadn't needed to play. Tony and Bruce were already getting emotional about their wedding, but the rehearsal amazingly went off without a hitch. Their suits had been picked up earlier that day. The decorations were ready. The flowers, the food, the cake, everything was going according to plan.

And so, of course the universe decided it was time to hurl a curveball his way.

And that curveball took the form of a man in a suit offering him a phone as the actual dinner after the rehearsal was just wrapping up. Bucky's questions were ignored and finally he just took the damn phone. He didn't recognize the caller's number and then put it up to his ear. "Who is this?" He asked sharply.

"Come on, boy. I taught you better manners than that." Bucky had about five instinctive responses: chuck the phone across the room, freeze in place, hang up and beat the delivery guy with it (just a little), RUN, and then there was a tiny little part of him that tried to force every little lesson his father had ever taught him to the forefront of his mind.

Bucky took a moment to breathe, refusing to let himself panic. "I don't know about that, but I do know I'm not your 'boy'. Hell, legally I'm not even your son anymore so I don't know why you went through all this trouble to contact me." Bucky reminded.

"I heard you were finally back in New York. Is it so bad that I wanted to see you?" He said and Bucky scoffed.

"Why? So you can lecture me some more about how wrong my attraction to men is? Maybe try beating it out of me again?" Bucky asked bitterly.

"James…" His father started.

"Bucky." He snapped and there was a pause. "I go by Bucky, not that you care." He explained.

To his surprise his father said, "Bucky, I…" There was a long pause and his father sighed.

"You are the only family I have left, son." He said.

Bucky inhaled sharply, but refused to let his father know how much those words hurt. To know his mother had passed away without anyone bothering to tell him? It really hurt. "I'm not your son. I haven't been since you disowned me and left me to fend for myself on the street. And if you knew some of the stuff I've done to survive, well, you definitely wouldn't even be talking to me." Bucky said.

"James, please…" His father pleaded and Bucky almost hung up. Almost, but he paused.

"I will give you one chance. Why have you really called me?" He ground out stiffly.

There was a long silence and when his father spoke again it was… different than Bucky had ever heard. "I'm dying, James. There's… there's nothing the doctors can do and they don't believe I have much time left. I want… I want to see you. Before I go." He said softly.

Bucky's back hit the wall behind him and he couldn't swallow the knot in his throat. He glanced at the man who had brought him the phone, still standing stoically nearby. And then further away in the dining room Bucky could see the remnants of the party. Pepper, of course, with Happy and Natalie. Tony and Bruce, cuddled up together. Rhodey, Tony's best man, was telling a story that made everyone laugh.

"Okay." Bucky finally whispered. "In two days, I can come to the house." He said.

"Thank you, Ja… Bucky. I'll be waiting for you." He said and then the phone call ended. Bucky's arm swung down limp, away from his ear and he was surprised the phone didn't fall from his loose grip.

The man stepped forward and Bucky gave him the phone. "It's still the same address, right?"

He asked softly and the man nodded. "Okay. Okay..." He repeated the word again to himself as the man walked away. Bucky wiped his face, to be sure there weren't any obvious marks of distress before he re-entered the dining room.

"Everything okay, Bucky? You were gone for a while." Tony asked immediately from his perch on Bruce's lap.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah." He assured but Tony didn't look convinced. Bucky glanced at the gathered group. Trusted faces, trusted friends. Even Rhodey and Natalie looked concerned and he had only met them earlier in the week. Bucky took a breath before he said "My father just… I just talked to him." He finished.

"What?" Bruce straightened up at the same time Tony asked "How?" All eyes were on him now, but only Tony, and to a lesser extent Bruce, knew the whole story.

"He sent a man with a phone. He, um, he wants to see me. Before I leave New York." Bucky informed them.

Everyone shared looks and Pepper placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What do you want to do?" She asked gently. Bucky shrugged helplessly.

"I told him I'd go. I have to, right? He said he's dying and with mom gone… I have to give him a chance. Right?" It was definitely a plea and she squeezed his shoulder. Tony got up and enveloped him in a hug.

"Whatever happens, we love you, Bucky." Tony whispered and Bucky held him back tightly.

* * *

Natasha was fuming. Her eyes were blazing as fiercely as her hair and both Clint and Steve were afraid. She'd stormed into Steve's office not ten minutes ago in a fit of rage and hadn't managed to settle enough to say a single word to either man while she paced. Clint decided to bite the bullet, possibly literally, and stepped forward slowly.

"Hey, Nat? What's going on?" He asked gently and he almost flinched at the sharp look Natasha sent his way. Almost. Nobody could prove it if he had.

"I didn't think I could hate anyone more than that man…" She said, and she didn't need to clarify. There was only one Unnamed Man for Natasha and even mentioning him sent Clint and Steve bristling protectively in defence of her. "But Bucky's father is making a strong case for that title. And for a sharp bullet to the brain." She added with a snarl.

"What's happened?" Steve's voice sent a chill down Clint's spine, because that was the tone he used when planning something awful, horrible, and usually unavoidably necessary. The kind of thing that had gotten him his position and helped him to keep it.

Natasha took a moment to compose herself. "The rehearsal dinner." She began and both men nodded. They knew it had been earlier that evening. "It had just wrapped up and Bucky had stepped out for a few minutes to use the restroom. When he came back he was obviously disturbed and it didn't take much prodding for him to tell us why. A man, one of his father's employees, had approached him and given him a phone."

"Which his father used to call him." Clint guessed and she nodded. "Why?"

"From what I gathered, his father is dying and Bucky is the only family he has left. He wants to see his son. Based on their past, though, I can't imagine what he wants with Bucky because there is no chance it's that simple." Natasha said.

Steve slowly crumpled whatever unfortunate piece of paper was under his hand. "Find out. Find out what he's planning and before the reception tomorrow, is that clear? If nothing else, I'll at least be able to warn Bucky if there's trouble." Steve ordered.

Natasha and Clint both left to fulfill his order and Steve looked down at the paper. Ironically, it was the report about Bucky's high school years. A part of it, anyway, and arguably the worst part. Steve wasn't sure if he hoped Bucky's father was being genuine, so Bucky could maybe reconcile or find peace with his father, or if he hoped it was a set up which would give Steve a valid reason to end the sorry excuse for a man.


	8. Chapter 7

The morning of the wedding was surprisingly simple, at least for Bucky, Rhodey, Tony, and Bruce. They rode together to the venue where Pepper had promptly separated the couple to get ready, and after stealing Rhodey she tasked Bucky with one simple job: make sure they were both okay. Which meant a lot of reassurances and running messages between the couple (Pepper had taken their phones for reasons known only to her).

About half an hour before the ceremony Bucky finally got a chance to get ready himself. Pepper's choice of tuxedo was excellent of course, as was the quality of the tux itself. Not that Bucky expected any less. There were all wearing essentially the same design, but with little differences in color and accessories (Rhodey had some of his military medals, other guys had handkerchiefs or flowers). He didn't have any extra accessories but his suit was the only all black one, including his undershirt and tie.

He returned to Bruce's room to find the man fiddling nervously with his tie and shifting on his feet, very nearly pacing. Bucky let out a soft sigh, a smile on his face as he stepped closer. He gently knocked Bruce's hands away from his tie and fixed it.

"You don't have anything to worry about." He promised and Bruce nodded.

"I know… I know. But… what if Tony changes his mind? What if he decides I'm not good enough? Or…" Bruce began and Bucky's look shut him up,

"Okay. Take a deep breath." He directed and Bruce did as he said. "Jesus, you and Tony both need to stop worrying." He said with a sigh.

There was a pause before Bruce practically whispered "Tony's… worried too?"

Bucky nodded. "Hell yeah he is. He's terrified that you're going to change your mind because, and I quote, he's a menace to society, a horrible boyfriend who always forgets the important things, is never around when you need him, etcetera. I could keep going but I think you get it." Bucky said.

Bruce nodded. "He's… He said that?" Bruce asked and Bucky nodded. "I've never… He's a fantastic boyfriend. Why would he think otherwise?"

"Why do you?" Bucky countered and that visibly halted Bruce's thoughts. Bucky gripped his tie again and made another small adjustment before re-securing it with the tie clip. "Listen, Bruce, you two have been a couple for five years and been living together for almost three. You already act married. If something was going to go wrong it would have happened already. That's not to say you won't have arguments or get mad at each other or make mistakes from here on out, but Tony loves you and you love him. You'll make it work because it's worth working for." Bucky assured.

Bruce took a long, deep breath with his eyes closed before nodded. When he opened them he was calmer and offered Bucky a small smile. "Thanks, Bucky." He said and Bucky pat his shoulder.

"Now, chin up and smile. You're getting married!" Bucky encouraged and Bruce laughed, but even when he stopped his smile remained.

"I'm getting married. To Tony." He repeated, excitement creeping into his voice, and Bucky wasn't worried. It was pretty obvious to anyone who saw the couple that they were wonderful together and that this was the best thing that could happen to the both of them.

Bruce's anxiety had definitely eased by the time Pepper came to get them for the ceremony. Tony had gone first. Bucky waited with Bruce, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, for as long as he could until it was his turn to walk down the aisle. It was a strange sensation, and something he never thought he would do.

Tony, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo with a red undershirt and gold accents/tie, looked fantastic. And nervous. Bucky could see he was tempted to fiddle with his engagement ring so he took a moment and gave Tony an unplanned hug before taking his place on the other side of the small stage. And then it was Bruce's turn and if Bucky had thought either of them were nervous before, it was nothing compared to the apprehension in the few moments after the music had started but before Bruce appeared.

And then he was walking down the aisle, eyes only for Tony and a blinding smile on his face. Tony wasn't even smiling; he hadn't be able to recover from the awe. His mouth was even hanging open, but it was obvious how enraptured he was. He still looked dazed as the officiant started speaking. The ceremony went perfectly and Bucky couldn't help smiling the whole time. Especially at the sweet 'secret' little looks the couple kept sharing.

The vows were moving and Bucky was positive the two of them were glowing when the officiant declared them husbands. And once he got permission, Tony being Tony, swung Bruce around, tipped him backwards, and kissed the living daylights out of him. The audience laughed and clapped, while a few of the groomsmen (Bucky and Rhodey primarily) actually cheered and whistled. When Tony finally pulled Bruce back to his feet they were both panting and their smiles were wide enough to make _Bucky's_ cheeks hurt.

After the ceremony were pictures, lots and lots of them, and after almost two hours Pepper started encouraging them all towards the ballroom housing the reception. Bucky helped her to keep everything under control and everybody accounted for and soon enough they were settled into their seats in the elegant and stunningly decorated ballroom. The waiters quickly got everyone's dinner choices and then Pepper stood.

She gave a quick speech, before handing the mic off to Rhodey. Bucky knew he was last on the list for speeches, to go after the food was served since he'd start off the night's music. As pleasant as they speeches were, Bucky found himself actually growing nervous as the time got nearer. It was an almost foreign experience to him; he had never been shy and never suffered from stage fright until the moment the mic was offered to him.

He got up and took it, having to take a moment to breathe before he could speak. Both Tony and Bruce looked worried at the pause but he offered them a quick smile and said "Can't believe I've got stage fright right now. Didn't even get it back in high school when Tony convinced me to play piano in my underwear for the talent show." His little quip got some laughter, and put smiles back on the newlyweds faces, and that helped to settled his nerves.

"Most of you probably don't know this, but I owe Bruce and Tony more than I could ever repay. When I was at my lowest, heartbroken with dismal prospects and not even a car to call home, these guys took me in. Tony, you got me the dream job I didn't know I wanted. Got me settled into a proper apartment. Even bought me a car and I can't thank you enough for that. Bruce, you always had a way of keeping me straight. Of making things seem more manageable and encouraging me to do and be my best. I couldn't be happier for the two of you because there's no one that deserves love more than you." He glanced at the piano and smiled. "And in honor of that, as well as a small thank you for everything you've done, I'd like to play for you."

Tony was doing a better job of keeping himself together, but both men looked close to tears. Even Bucky felt close to crying, but he handed off the microphone to the DJ and took a seat at the piano. His sheet music was already there, waiting for him, and Bucky couldn't explain the way it felt to play beyond it felt like he was home. He almost didn't even need the score and played with his eyes closed half the time, just feeling the music. Bruce's first, since it was the more subdued of the two, followed by Tony's which was more of a party song. When he finished he didn't move away from the keyboard for several seconds. Couldn't.

The reception guests, several times the count that were at the ceremony itself, all clapped and cheered and after a little Pepper started talking again. Bucky didn't know what she was saying over the blood rushing in his ears. He finally and numbly moved back to the table where the wedding party was seated. Both Bruce and Tony stood and hugged him tightly once he was close enough. And that hug finally brought him back to reality.

"Thank you, Bucky." Tony whispered and Bucky squeezed him a little to show he heard.

Their hug didn't last long, since the pair had to start the first dance or mess up Pepper's schedule, but Bucky could still feel it as he took his seat again. They took to the dance floor and Bucky smiled as they got started. The lessons Bruce had been quietly complaining about for months had paid off; they looked like professionals, aside from the utterly adoring smiles on both their faces and nobody was going to judge them for that.

Even as others joined them on the dance floor, Bucky remained in his seat. He still felt a little off-kilter after his performance and the only dances he'd promised had been to Tony and Bruce, both of whom were absolutely too caught up in each other to separate now.

Bucky nearly jumped out of his seat when a hand landed on his shoulder and he twisted to see Natalie standing there. "Hey." He greeted and she smiled.

"That was a wonderful performance." She praised and he just shrugged.

"I just… I wanted to do something nice for them. That's all." He said, nodding at the couple on the dance floor.

"Well, I think everyone enjoyed it immensely and you definitely made it special for Tony and Bruce." Natalie assured and he smiled.

"Good." He took a breath. "Was that all or did you need something?" He asked, just in case Pepper had asked her to get him or something. He's told her multiple times he was at her disposal during the wedding if she needed him.

"I was asked to give you these." She offered something to him, a polaroid, face down. When he took it he realized it wasn't just one. There were four. When he flipped them over, the world stopped around him. Three of them he knew. Two he had taken, of Steve back when they were still… And the third was the one of him Steve had taken that same day. But the fourth was from only a few minutes ago. He was seated at the piano, eyes closed and expression blissful as he was lost in the song.

Finally he snapped out of it and asked "Who…?"

Natalie offered him an apologetic smile. "Bucky, I'm not… I'm not who you think I am. Natalie Rushman is someone I created, in order to get close to Stark." She started and Bucky flinched back. "Not because I have anything against him, but because I heard that some restaurant staff had seen you with him the day you left and it was the only lead I had."

A rush of ice water chilled his veins. "What are you talking about?" He asked softly as his breathing picked up.

She smiled, genuinely this time. "My real name is Natasha and I was tasked to find JB by Steve Rogers." She explained and the pictures slipped from his fingers.

Finally he managed to gasp "why?"

Natasha glanced somewhere in the room and slowly Bucky looked in that direction as she spoke. "Because he missed you. He realized the day you left how much he cared and he wanted to make sure, at the very least, you were somewhere safe." And there, standing alone against one of the walls dressed in a nice suit, was Steve Rogers. He looked good. Obviously he'd been taking care of himself and the tuxedo was very flattering.

Bucky inhaled sharply and quickly looked away when their eyes met. "Why is he here?" Bucky practically whispered, like Steve could somehow hear them from across the room over all the music and talking.

"He's here because he wanted to see you. To talk to you." Natasha said and Bucky risked another glance towards the blond. He was chewing his lip nervously now and Bucky could see him twitching to come over to them. "Bucky." His name drew his attention back to Natasha. "I'm not asking you to forgive him, because he was in the wrong and you did the right thing when you left. All I ask is that you listen to him. He really does care about you. He hasn't slept with anyone since you walked out. He drinks less and he never even tried drugs because he knew you wouldn't approve. I've never seen him hurting like this for anyone before so please, just listen to what he has to say." She requested.

Bucky slumped into his seat, burying his face in hands. Two years and Bucky's heart still twinged every time Steve came up. Bucky could vividly recall every detail of their one month together. And he hadn't been able to connect with anyone since the way he had Steve, no matter how hard he tried. Steve may as well have carved his name on Bucky's heart for all the progress he made at moving on.

After a few moments he remembered what he would be doing tomorrow. _"Guess this trip is just going to be about closure and new beginnings. Kind of appropriate."_ He thought before he sat up. "Alright. I'll talk to him." He agreed and Natasha smiled before leaning in and kissing his cheek. "Have him meet me outside, alright? In the garden where we were taking pictures." He said and she nodded.

"Alright." She agreed and Bucky stood. "And I'll cover for you with Bruce and Tony if needed." She added and Bucky nodded, but he couldn't return her smile. He left quickly because he knew if he stopped he wouldn't go at all.

* * *

Steve felt his heart sinking as Bucky left in a hurry and his head hit the wall behind him. "Damn." He muttered to himself. Not that he had expected anything other than an outright rejection, but it still hurt. A few moments later he felt someone nearby. Natasha, who held out his precious polaroids.

"He wants you to meet him in the garden." She said and his heart skipped a few beats.

"He… I have a chance?" He asked softly and she nodded. "Thank you." He grabbed the polaroids and tucked them securely into his jacket before he hurried after the brunet. His heart simply refused to resume it's usual rhythm as he made his way into the garden. It was stunning, and the reason it had been chosen for the pictures was obvious. But Steve thought the person in them outshined it all.

Bucky was standing in the central courtyard, his back to Steve (and anyone else who might have come by, Steve's protective instinct warned). He watched Bucky for a few moments, taking in the details Natasha's pictures hadn't shown (and maybe a little bit staring at Bucky's butt in his slacks because damn, he looked good in his tux). Finally he heard Bucky sigh heavily, the first clue he'd shown that he knew Steve was there. "Are you just going to stare or are we going to talk?"

"Talk, I had hoped." Steve answered and Bucky turned around. His expression, even his eyes, was surprisingly guarded.

They lapsed into another silence, which Bucky broke first again. "You look good."

"You too. Better than. Short hair suits you." Steve said and Bucky chuckled as he scraped the ground with his shoe.

"I didn't expect to see you." He mentioned and Steve nodded.

"I know. But I couldn't… I… I wanted to know you were safe at least, and not struggling on the streets again. I… wanted to apologize if I could, but I could never find you." Steve said.

Bucky nodded. "That was the idea. I don't go by JB anymore. Haven't since I left."

"I know." Those words made Bucky's head snap up. "Natasha told me. Bucky, right? Short for James Buchanan Barnes. J. B. B." He sounded out slowly, just like he had when they'd first introduced themselves to one another but this time infinity more fond.

Bucky shifted, a little uncomfortable with the way his heart skittered at that tone, and sighed again as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Do I want to know how you found that out?" He asked.

"I know a lot more than that." Steve took a step closer to him. "I know that right now you're working in Hollywood playing piano for film soundtracks, and doing very well. I know that before I met you, you spent six years on the streets because your father disinherited you and kicked you out just after high school. I know you and Tony dated briefly in school. And I know…" Steve took another step closer, almost into Bucky's space, but the brunet didn't move back. "I know about the abuse."

That made Bucky flinch, which was followed up by a scoff. "Well damn, what don't you know about me then?" He muttered defensively. Steve wasn't deterred.

"I don't know if you can ever forgive me. If you even should. I don't know… if you still care about me at all." Steve stepped even closer and reached out, cradling Bucky's jaw with light fingers. "I don't know if you know how much you mean to me." He added softly.

Bucky met his eyes and took a moment, obviously struggling with whatever was going through his head. "You care about me?" He finally asked, almost whispered, and Steve nodded.

"More than I ever thought I could care about anyone and I'm a bastard for not realizing it until you left. I hurt you and even if you forgive me for it I don't know if I could ever forgive myself. But, if you're willing, I want to try to make it up to you. To make sure every single day you know just how much I love you." Steve pleaded softly. He had expected the words to feel foreign or uncomfortable, but they weren't. Not when he was standing so close to Bucky, close enough to notice all the beautiful little details he'd forgotten about Bucky's eyes. When he could feel Bucky's soft skin against his hands after so long.

Bucky was silent for a long time, letting Steve stroke his cheeks and once even run his fingers through Bucky's hair. Then he pulled back, lowering Steve's hand with his own. "I don't… I don't think I can trust you that much yet. But…" Steve tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest and then Bucky met his eyes. There was no more insecurity. Whatever he had decided, it was final. "I'm willing to give you a chance to regain that trust. Not as my boyfriend or a lover or anything like that, not yet, but maybe… Maybe we can just try for friends for the moment?" He offered.

"Yes." Steve agreed without hesitation. It wasn't what he really wanted, but it was more than he had dared let himself hope for. Whatever Bucky was willing to offer, he'd take. He had a chance and there was no way in hell he was going to waste it.

Bucky nodded and ran a hand through his hair, fixing it back to his usual style, which was a little less neat than it had been for the reception. Steve really wanted to mess it up further. "Okay. Now, there's one other major hurdle you have to get over first before we can try this." Bucky warned.

Steve just raised an eyebrow. "You do remember I'm a mafia boss, right? It takes a lot to scare me." He reminded.

Bucky's little smile told him exactly how wrong he was. "You may be a mafia boss, but you haven't met Tony and Bruce. And if you knew some of the stuff they've threatened to do to you I think even you'd be scared." Bucky warned before he started walking. Steve found himself frozen in place, blinking, until Bucky looked back and called "well are you coming?"

He ran to catch up.


	9. Chapter 8

They were approaching the building, Steve lingering near his shoulder when Bucky stopped. "Maybe you should wait here and I'll bring them to you. They might not be as likely to castrate you if I give them a heads up." He added just to see Steve squirm (which he did) before he entered the ballroom alone.

Bruce and Tony had stopped dancing, reclaimed their seats at the table, and were currently feeding each other. Bucky stepped up to them and said "I thought the newlyweds didn't feed each other until the cake came out."

Both jumped but their expressions quickly turned to relief when they saw him. "Everything okay? You disappeared for a few." Tony asked and Bucky nodded.

"Yeah, I think so. But there is something we need to talk about." He warned, lowering his voice a little. They both leaned in a bit, so the three of them had relative privacy. "Okay, so… turns out Natalie isn't who she said she was." He started.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked as Tony spoke over him saying "Is she a threat to Pepper?"

"Nothing like that, Tony. She just... had an alternative motive for joining your company." Bucky explained.

"What motive?" Tony sounded defensive, understandably so since there were a lot of people who wanted to cause Stark Industries, Tony, and, by proxy, Bruce or even Pepper harm.

"To find me. Well, to find JB." Bucky informed them and they shared a quick concerned look. Bucky felt privileged he was included in their little circle of people who warranted that special concern. "She told me that Steve Rogers tasked her with finding me and she did. But what's important is that he's here."

"Rogers is here?" Tony said and Bucky nodded.

"We talked." Bucky informed them.

Bruce quickly reached out and took his hand. "Are you okay? Is that why you disappeared?"

Bucky nodded as he squeezed Bruce's hand a little. "Yeah. He… apologized. Said he was an idiot and a bastard. That he'd messed up and wanted to try again." Bucky informed them.

"You didn't." Tony warned and Bucky gave him a look.

"Of course not, I'm not a fool. But he sounded sincere and truthfully, I have missed him. Missed what we had. So, I said that he could start earning my trust back as my friend first and then if that goes well then maybe, eventually, we can try for more." Bucky informed them.

"You want us to give him the third degree. Happily." Tony agreed and Bucky chuckled.

"Thanks. Come on, I made him wait outside. Told him you weren't as likely to castrate him if I gave you a heads up." Bucky said as he straightened up. The couple quickly stood, chuckling as they did, and followed him outside.

Steve was exactly where he had left him, leaning up against the wall casually. His almost dazed expression morphed into a smile as soon as he saw Bucky and Bucky offered him a small one back. Steve pushed off the wall and stood up straight as the three of them approached.

"Tony, Bruce, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, meet Tony and Bruce." Bucky quickly introduced.

Before Steve even had the chance to offer his hand Tony was in his face, waving a finger threateningly in his direction. It was almost funny because Tony was noticeably smaller, but that didn't make him any less threatening. "Alright, listen up, Rogers. Bucky is in a good place now and if you do anything to jeopardize that… If you do anything to mess up his career or break his heart or get him hurt you will know what hell looks like and trust me, I have the resources to do it, mafia boss or not." Tony warned.

Steve actually looked concerned and Tony didn't back down until Bruce gently pulled him back. He still reminded Bucky of a dog with it's hackles raised. Bruce glanced between Tony and Bucky before his eyes landed on Steve. "These two men mean more to me than anything, but given the choice between them I have to pick Tony. So just know that if you plan to pursue Bucky then you sure as hell better be putting him first." Bruce warned.

"I promise." Steve said, and it sounded like he meant it. He glanced at Bucky before he added "I made that mistake once already and it cost me dearly. I won't make it again, not now that I have a second chance."

Tony and Bruce looked at each other before they nodded. "Good. Just know that there isn't an expiration date on threats." Tony added before he turned to Bucky. "Now, I believe you promised me a dance?" He said and Bucky laughed.

"Indeed I did." He agreed. He accepted Tony's arm and was promptly pulled into the ballroom, straight onto the dance floor. They danced to two songs before Bruce cut in. Bruce and Tony were very different dancers, Bucky realized. Tony liked to lead, often poorly, but Bruce was more than happy to let Bucky lead.

"You doing okay?" Bruce asked halfway through their second song and Bucky nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." He promised. And he meant it. The song finished shortly after and Bucky found himself ambushed by Pepper. And then after that Natasha stole him for a dance.

"Thank you." She said softly and Bucky gave her a look.

"For what?" He questioned.

"For making Steve smile again. He's happier than I've seen him in years." She explained and Bucky swallowed the knot in his throat.

"Yeah, well, this trip seems to be all about new beginnings so... " He shrugged. "Besides, grudges and anger don't do much good in the long term."

"You're right about that." She agreed, and there was definitely more to that story. But she didn't elaborate. When the song ended when she kissed his cheek and stepped away. Bucky took a breath and was about to step off the dance floor when someone else came up to him.

"Can I have a dance?" Steve asked and after a moment Bucky nodded. They got settled quickly and Bucky was happy to let Steve lead after leading so many dances himself. They danced in silence for a little while before Steve said "I've missed getting to see you dance."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Really? I don't think I'm that good." He objected. Steve gave a slight humm of disagreement.

"You have an innate sense of rhythm. It shows when you play piano too. I noticed it the first time I saw you dancing." Steve said and Bucky blushed.

"You mean that stupid strip show at the club." He muttered and Steve nodded.

"I'd never seen someone move like that before. That's why you caught my eye. Well, that and your choice of attire. Boots and black spandex? Quite the combo. And then I fell in love with watching you move." Steve admitted and Bucky chuckled.

"So that's why you were always asking me to dance." Bucky said.

"Guilty." Steve accepted lightly and Bucky smiled at him.

They continued to dance in silence for a while and it was comfortable. "I missed you, you know." Bucky finally confessed and Steve jerked like he hadn't expected that. "I really did. Even though it was only a month I couldn't get you out of my head. Still can't some days. I tried going on dates, in LA, but I could never connect with anyone the way I had with you and finally I just gave up. Figured I'd just play the bachelor for the rest of my life."

"Sounds lonely." Steve whispered softly and Bucky shrugged.

"Probably. But I have Tony and Bruce and my work and it's… It was enough." Bucky said and Steve hand tightened on his waist. Bucky obliged and took a half step closer, until they were nearly touching chests, and he heard Steve's breath hitch slightly. It was nice to know he had that effect on Steve.

They fell into silence again and slowly Bucky let his head come to rest on Steve's shoulder. This was still the place he felt safest. He took in a deep breath and realized Steve was wearing cologne. "Is that… the cologne you were wearing when we met?" Bucky asked.

"I… yes. I saved it. I wanted to have it in case I ever got the chance to see you again." Steve admitted and Bucky hummed, holding back a chuckle. It was such a little thing, and so sappy (he'd never pegged Steve for that kind of romantic). But it still made him happy. "You were right though."

"I was?" Bucky asked as he lifted his head to see Steve's face. The blond was nodding.

"You said that first night, based off my cologne, we were going to have a very good night and you were right. It was the best of my life, well, save maybe the month after. Good enough to put me off other men." Steve teased and Bucky laughed for real this time.

"Sure that wasn't just my charming personality?" He countered playfully and Steve winked. Before they could continue the song ended and then the kitchen staff brought out the cake. "Excuse me." Bucky ducked away and quickly found Tony and Bruce. He squeezed Bruce's shoulder before joining the crowd gathered around them and the cake. They cut the cake together and Bruce fed Tony first, which Bucky personally thought was kind of brave of him, but he was also fairly sure Tony had been threatened by both Bruce and Pepper about what would happen if he dirtied Bruce's tuxedo.

And Tony playfully seemed to consider it for a moment, before he settled for just leaving a strip of frosting on Bruce's nose after giving him a bite. As everyone rushed in to get cake Bucky noticed the two of them step away together and Tony licked it off before kissing his husband. The sight just made him smile.

* * *

Steve settled into a place against the wall where he could see the whole room, and in particular keep an eye on Bucky. Not that he expected anything to happen (he had to give Stark credit; the security here was much better than he'd expected). But he was not going to let anything happen to Bucky on his watch, especially not after the miracles he'd already received today.

He chuckled to himself at Stark putting frosting on his husband's nose, but didn't move from the wall even as they started handing out the cake. A few moments later Natasha fell into place beside him. "You look happy." She commented.

"I am." He informed her. "I didn't think I could have or even deserved happiness like this and I'm not going to take it for granted again."

"I know you won't." She assured and Steve gave her a flash of a smile. "He's a great guy. Has a way of making people care for him." She said and Steve realized that even Natasha had been caught by Bucky's pull.

"I just hope I can make him as happy as he does me." Steve let out a breath and without any effort he was able to locate Bucky in the crowd. He was standing with Tony and Bruce, having gotten his own piece of the cake, and the three were laughing at something. Steve had no idea what, but seeing Bucky smile like that… It was impossible for him not to smile too.

"Steve, there is one thing." Natasha warned and Steve glanced at her, waiting for her to continue. "I heard from Clint while you two were talking."

"About Bucky's visit to his father tomorrow?" Steve guessed and she nodded.

"There's something going on. I don't think he's in any danger and his father wasn't lying when he said he'd be dying soon. But something about it is fishy. We're still digging." Natasha warned.

"Okay. Good work. I wonder if he'd agree to take Clint with him." Steve muttered.

"Doubt it. He's too independent and it's too early. But you should at least give him your phone number so he can reach you if needed." Natasha suggested and Steve nodded.

"Good idea." He straightened up and started weaving his way through the crowd. Only to find himself stopped short briefly when Bucky turned to look at him and offered him a warm smile. The smile Steve didn't think he'd ever get to see again. Steve took up a place at his shoulder, tempted beyond reason to wrap an arm around Bucky's waist and tug him close. But he held back.

"What's up?" Bucky asked.

"I wanted to give you my phone number. So in case something ever happens you can call me." Steve informed him and Bucky raised and eyebrow but nodded. He took out his phone (Pepper had returned it to him at the start of the reception) and opened a new contact before offering it to Steve. The blond filled it out quickly and gave it back. "Especially tomorrow. If something happens…" Steve started.

Bucky dismissed it with a wave and stepped back, holding up his phone. "I get already, now smile." He ordered. Steve did as he was told and Bucky took the picture. "There." He showed Steve the contact, now complete with his picture, before Bucky did something on his phone (Steve felt his own buzz in his pocket and assumed Bucky had texted him). "If something happens, I'll contact you, I promise. Now can we try to just enjoy the party?"

Steve chuckled and took a step closer, brushing Bucky's jaw with his fingers. "Alright, Bucky." Steve agreed, which got a charming smile from the brunet.

"Good." He declared before turning back to the Bruce and Tony, who quickly incorporated him back into the conversation. This time Steve lingered at Bucky's shoulder, unwilling to move away just yet, and quickly he found himself also involved in their reminiscing. (He made a mental note to ask Natasha to try to find the footage of Bucky's talent show performance because that sounded absolutely worth watching.)


	10. Chapter 9

When the car stopped outside the mansion Bucky couldn't get out right away. It hadn't changed, not one bit, since he had last been here and his final memories of the place were not happy ones. In fact he had very few good memories from his time here when he thought about it.

"Hey, man, I need to go." His driver finally reminded and Bucky jumped.

"Right. Sorry." He got out quickly and watched the car leave. It took a few moments for it to reach the end of the driveway. Slowly he turned back around to look at the mansion and for a moment he faltered, almost wishing he had accepted Tony's offer of using one of his cars just so that there was someone or something to give him an excuse to remain outside a little longer.

Finally he took a breath and walked up to the front door.

It opened before he could knock. "Welcome home, sir." George greeted with his usual stoic expression. Bucky couldn't think of a single time when the old man had so much as smiled. He looked older than Bucky remembered, more fragile in a way. His hair was white now and his skin hung off his bones. It was a strange reminder that Bucky hadn't come here in over 8 years.

"Let's just get this over with." Bucky said, almost as a sigh as he passed the doorway. He tucked his thumbs into his pockets as he looked around. It was just like he remembered; expensive wooden floors, a large plain rug, neutral wood-tone walls with large and simple but abstract paintings. Everything was clean and meticulously designed to look like a magazine but it lacked any real warmth. Almost like a museum.

"Follow me." George directed before he started walking. Bucky still remembered how to get to his father's study, since he'd spent most of his childhood and all of his adolescence doing everything to avoid going near it, but let George lead him anyway.

Bucky was surprised how much of the house he remembered, and how little he actually felt about seeing it again. It had never really felt like home to him, but the difference was even more noticeable now that he knew what a home should feel like. It was like visiting an empty warehouse; there was no substance to anything here. They reached the study quickly and George knocked on the door.

"Enter." was the command and Bucky frowned slightly. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but his father sounded better than he had over the phone. Still, George pushed the door open and motioned for Bucky to enter.

He did, fighting down the chill creeping up his spine as he passed through the doorway. Bucky had hated this place and found he still did. He could remember every strike, every scolding word, every insult his father had ever delivered from this room. And it had happened a lot. Bucky kept his head up defiantly, refusing to let his father see how shaken he was.

Vincent Barnes sat at his desk looking at papers and didn't acknowledge his entrance. Bucky used the time to observe him. He looked older, much older. Vincent's hair was most gray now, the wrinkles had multiplied, and if he looked closely enough he could see the slightest tremor in his father's usually steady hand. Finally the man looked up.

"Ah, James. Good. Sit." He ordered calmly and Bucky crossed his arms, refusing to move. It took a few moments for his father to notice. "I told you to sit down." Vincent said, a bit more sharply than before.

"My name isn't James, it's Bucky, and I'm not a dog. You can't order me to sit on command." He informed the man.

His father looked irritated but took a breath. "Fine, stand if you want." He conceded.

Bucky shifted on his feet, arms still crossed, but his father didn't speak as they went back to the papers. Finally Bucky sighed. "Look, I don't want to be here and I have no reason to be here. I should be on my way home. I have work on Tuesday. So why don't you just say what you want to say and save us both the time."

Vincent set down the papers and then slowly stood up from his desk. Bucky couldn't help tensing a little, preparing to either defend himself or flee. But his father didn't approach him right away. Instead he picked up a piece of paper from the desk and offered it to Bucky. "Here." He said.

Bucky took the paper cautiously and quickly looked it over. "A contract? What's it for and why are you giving it to me?" He asked.

"You are my heir and I want you to take over the company, now. Before I pass away so I can insure you have a good standing with the board as well as the knowledge you'll need ro run it." Vincent said and Bucky grit his teeth. "You will also inherit this mansion as well as all my material possessions once I pass away."

Bucky held back a legitimate snarl. "I don't want it. Any of it." He growled.

"James!" His father snapped and Bucky's eyes widened. For a brief moment he had a flashback to the first time his father had raised his voice. The first time he had ever hit Bucky. And it froze him in place. "It would be an honor for you, to take over the company."

"Yeah, well, I don't care alright! Let your board run it, I don't give a shit. I've got my own life, my own goals, my own plan. And none of it involves taking over your company." Bucky slapped the paper against his chest and turned to walk away. "And I don't care about the inheritance either."

"James." Bucky paused, his hand on the door, and turned around slowly. He watched and waited for his father to speak. "You will agree to this deal." Vincent warned.

"Agree to what deal? This isn't a deal; it's you trying to control my life. Again. And hell, you'd never trust me with your company unless someone else was pulling strings, so what deal?" Bucky practically snarled at him.

The stern expression on his father's face deepened into an almost scowl. "You've always been too smart."

"That almost sounds like an insult." Bucky countered. Vincent wasn't nearly as amused by the comment as he was.

"James, this contract will change your life." Bucky couldn't resist rolling his eyes. That was exactly what he didn't want. "You will marry the daughter of Alexander Pierce and then you will take control of both Barnes Corp and the Pierce Conglomerate." His father said and for a few moments Bucky just blinked at him.

Then he started laughing. He was laughing so hard he couldn't quite breath. "Oh god, that's hilarious, old man. You actually think I'd agree to that, knowing I'm gay, knowing I don't even want to take over your company, and knowing I don't like you. God, Tony is going to have a field day with this one." Bucky finally calmed enough to open the door.

"James!" It was a command and Bucky paused. He glanced back at his father and just shook his head, a smirk still on his lips. He felt oddly free, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The weight he'd been unknowingly carrying ever since that first strike. Vincent was fuming. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were blazing with fury. But Bucky wasn't afraid anymore.

"It's almost cute that you think you still scare me. Because you don't. Goodbye and don't contact me again." Bucky said before he turned around.

"James!" Bucky ignored the call and kept walking, more than ready to just get out of the mansion for good. But he couldn't ignore the second "James". It was softer. Pained. Almost pleading. He paused and turned around, only to see Vincent on his knees, his hands to his chest. Bucky almost walked away, almost, but he couldn't. Not even from this inhuman being that dared call himself a man that had made his early years a living hell. He hurried back into the study and knelt.

"What can I do? What's wrong?" He asked. He felt strangely calm, almost disconnected from his body in a way.

"It's my heart…" His father groaned and Bucky faltered. He didn't know what to do other than call an ambulance. Right, an ambulance.

He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed 911. He didn't make it to the call button. Something sharp suddenly stuck him in the side and he dropped the phone as he fumbled back with a shout of surprise. Sticking out of his side was an empty syringe and he quickly yanked it out. "What the hell?" He muttered, only for the world to sway a bit.

He pressed his back against one of the chairs, trying and failing to steady himself, as his father stood, dusting off his knees as if nothing had happened. "What did you do to me?" Bucky felt his heart rate increasing from fear as his father stood over him; it sent him right back to being a helpless child. Pins and needles began spreading quickly through his limbs. He tried to get up, only to fall immediately back down when he legs refused to work properly.

He tried another attempt or two and made no progress. The numbness had spread all the way to his knees and he was using the seat of the chair to stay unright. He noticed a light on the floor nearby. His phone. His phone was still set to call an ambulance. The police would come too. He lurched towards it, and managed to grab it, only for a shoe to press down hard on his wrist. Hard enough he let go with a cry and slightly feared his father might break his wrist.

"That's no good, James. I can't have you calling for help." His father said as he scooped up the phone. Bucky unsuccessfully tried to bite back a another cry as the weight on his wrist increased further. He tried to pull himself free, tried to push his father off, but his hand, his arm, most of his body now had gone completely numb. He had to stop struggling as the world practically spun like a twister around him. His eyes were getting heavier and every time he closed them they stayed that way for longer. He tried one more desperate jerk using everything he had. His body barely moved. His head came to rest on the floor, unable and too dizzy to support itself anymore, and in a matter of seconds he was unconscious.

* * *

Steve had settled unintentionally into a pattern over the last half hour. Pace across the living room in one direction, pause at the table with his phone sitting on it, reach for it, pull his hand back, walk a little further, then switch directions and repeat. He had never thought calling someone could be such a frightening prospect, but the thought of calling Bucky, of asking him out to dinner, terrified Steve.

_"But it has to be tonight because by tomorrow night Bucky will be back in LA."_ Steve reminded himself, not for the first time, but this time he was able to pick up his phone. It took him a few minutes longer to work up the courage to call, only to bale before pressing the button.

He took a breath and when he opened his eyes he noticed the text icon. _"A text. There's a good idea."_ He decided.

He quickly typed out the message and sent it. Then he practically slapped his phone down on the coffee table, wincing slightly at the sound and hoping he hadn't broken the screen (a quick peek to make sure he hadn't). And then it was a waiting game. Steve wasn't good at waiting. He checked his phone four times before the clock even turned over one minutes.

Finally he got up and grabbed his guitar. He'd been practicing almost every day since Bucky left, both because it reminded him of the brunet and because he wanted to get on Bucky's level of piano playing. Today though felt much more relaxed and he found himself playing a much lighter song than he had in a while. It was nice.

Every few songs he would check his phone then go back to playing. The sun went down completely during the process, until it too dark to read sheet music since he'd forgotten to turn on the lights. And he still hadn't heard from Bucky. Now he was worried. He called Bruce, since he didn't exactly get along with Stark and figured Bruce would be less likely to get upset about him swiping their phone numbers from Bucky's phone.

"Bruce Ba...er, Stark." He greeted warmly.

"It's Steve Rogers." Steve answered.

"Oh, Steve, hi. Um, how did you get my number?" Bruce asked, obviously a little concerned.

"Later. First I want to make sure; Bucky's flight is tomorrow, right?" He asked.

"Yes, at one. As far as Tony and I know anyway. Why?" Bruce answered.

Steve sighed and rubbed his face as he set aside the guitar. "I texted him a few hours ago and haven't gotten a response." He said as he got up to turn on some lights.

"Really? Usually he's pretty quick about that, unless he's at work or asleep." Bruce sounded a little concerned too. "I'll try calling him, see what happens." Bruce promised.

"Alright. Keep me updated. Hopefully it's nothing, but I just have a feeling something isn't right." Steve admitted.

"I will." Bruce promised before he hung up. Steve just looked at his phone screen for a while, in particular one of the many pictures of Bucky he'd taken at the reception that served as his current background. Bucky had a piece of cake on a fork partway in his mouth and was looking at the camera with a look that was equal parts seductive, playful, and fond. And that smile had been for him, the man behind the camera. Steve held the phone a little tighter. He could just feel something was wrong and hoped that he could figure it out before Bucky got hurt. There would be hell to pay if he was.


	11. Chapter 10

Bucky woke up slowly. He was cold and confused. His back was sore, like when he used to sleep on the sidewalk, and his wrist ached. And when he finally forced his eyes open he couldn't really see anything. Wherever he was there were no windows or lights. Underneath him was cold concrete. And when he shifted, trying to feel farther into the darkness, he realized there was something around his ankle.

A quick investigation with his fingers told him it was a metal cuff, attached to a chain that was attached to the wall. For a moment he was confused. The last thing he remembered was arguing with his father and trying to leave… His father! "Fuck." Bucky growled as it came back. The bastard had tricked and then sedated him.

Patting his pockets he realized his jacket, his favorite leather jacket he might add, was gone as was everything in his pockets. So were his shoes and even his socks. So he had no phone, no wallet, and no keys. Great. At least his father hadn't checked his underwear and so he still had his scrap of sheet music. The remnants of the first song he had written, the one his father had burned along with a number of other things (Bucky still had faint scars on his fingers from trying to save it). And he was still wearing his butt plug, the one he'd accidentally stolen from Steve two years ago and felt odd without wearing.

Rubbing his arms he tried to get comfortable. It was far too cold for his short sleeves and he tucked his legs into his chest for warmth. His mouth was dry and his stomach was gurgling slightly, which meant he had probably been out for at least the rest of the day and likely most of the night too. _"It's okay. A few more hours and when you don't show up to your flight Tony, Bruce, and Steve will probably all come looking."_ He reminded himself.

He tried to relax, played a silent piano on his knees for a while when he got bored, until finally he heard a door open. Light spilled down the stairwell across the room, blinding him momentarily. It was took his eyes a bit to adjust to the sudden brightness and then he was able to take in the whole room. It was quite small, maybe ten by ten feet, empty aside from him, and all concrete. Even the ceiling. There was a small drainpipe in the middle of the room, out of his reach, and the floor had some suspicious shading especially around the grate.

Two sets of footsteps came down the stairs and Bucky tensed, bracing himself for whatever was coming. Chances were very high it wasn't going to be pleasant. Vincent stepped into view first. He looked surprisingly congenial and Bucky didn't trust that in the slightest. Behind him was a large man with thick muscular arms and several tattoos. Bucky had a good feeling he knew why the man was also here.

"You're awake, good." Vincent spoke first and Bucky just looked away. He didn't bow his head but he refused to meet his father's eyes. His father huffed a little at that. "James, you forced my hand. I didn't want to do this, but we need to merge Barns Corp with the Pierce Conglomerate. Now, you are going to stay imprisoned until you agree to sign the contract so make this easy on yourself and just sign it." He placed the paper contract, or a new version since this one wasn't crinkled, within arms reach.

Bucky stared at it for a while and he could feel his father staring at him. Finally he reached out and picked it up before slowly tearing it in half, and then tearing it again before throwing the pieces at Vincent. He tugged his knees in tighter and looked away.

"James, this is childish." Vincent declared and Bucky almost rolled his eyes. Almost. The urge was strong but it would only further prove his father's point. "Fine. You know what to do." Vincent said before he moved back and took up a place against the opposite wall.

Bucky glanced at the big tattooed man. "Well, if you're going to beat the shit out of me, do I at least get to know your name?" Bucky asked with a false smile. The man didn't answer and instead Bucky's nose met with the man's boot, which subsequently made his head hit the wall. He definitely gave a cry of surprise at the strike and followed it up with "fuck" as he clutched his nose. Already he could tell it was broken and it almost gushing blood all over his hand.

The man grabbed him by both wrists and yanked him up before hitting him in the stomach. It left him gasping for air and just as he thought he'd gotten it back the man punched him again. Then he was dropped and he crumpled like a rag doll. The man put his foot on Bucky chest, forcing him onto his back, and then pressed down. Bucky inhaled sharply and tried to push him off (with no success) and tried to keep his breathing shallow. It only helped so much.

Just as Bucky was starting to get used to the pressure, and dizzy from limited air, the man took his foot away. Bucky immediately gasped and after a few deep breaths curled onto his side protectively, facing away from the man. A hard kick to the back made him grunt, but he grit his teeth and curled more tightly into a ball as several more kicks followed. It was starting to become a struggle to breathe deeply, and even his shallow breaths hurt.

"Enough." The blows stopped immediately at his father's voice. Bucky didn't flip around to look, didn't dare because he did _not_ want to get kicked in the chest or stomach. At least the man hadn't targeted his head. Footsteps approached him. "James, make this easy for both of us and just sign the contract." Vincent insisted.

Bucky was silent for a moment before he swallowed. Disconcertingly, it was more blood than saliva. And an idea came to him. "Well, unless you want me to sign it in blood, I'm going to need a pen." He informed them. He risked a glance over his shoulder to see his father standing still, blinking like an idiot. He raised an eyebrow and his father coughed.

"Of course." He stuttered. That was a nice anomaly. Vincent pulled out another, un-ripped piece of paper (it didn't surprise Bucky in the slightest his father had brought multiple copies). He set it down and slowly Bucky shifted, turning to face them. It was slow and he had to lean against the wall for a bit to keep himself from swaying. His chest hurt and his back was now appreciating the cold cement. And he was quite sure his nose was still bleeding as when he tried to wipe it away all he succeeded at doing was getting more blood on his arm.

Vincent set a pen down on the contract and Bucky nearly groaned at the thought of moving to grab it. But he leaned forward anyway. He scanned over the document again and noticed some of the details he had missed before (like how this was page number 10; he didn't want to think about what the other pages included). He set the pen to the paper, then had to pause as more blood seeped from his nose.

He carefully signed it very slowly, letter by letter. His hand shook slightly, but his lure worked. His father leaned in further and further with every letter and once he was in range Bucky reached out and jammed the pen into his knee. Vincent fell back with a pained cry of surprise and was caught by the larger man before he could fall. "You ungrateful bastard of a child!"

Bucky just spat blood onto the contract, effectively covering pretty much all of the signature he'd completed (only his first name and middle initial). Then he shoved it towards his father. "That's what I think of your contract." He snarled before he moved, pressing his side against the wall, holding his legs in close to his chest, and wiping away the blood from under his nose periodically until his hand, wrist, and forearm all had a layer of blood.

His father was on a tirade; cursing and threatening him in equal measure the whole way as he was carried up the steps. Bucky didn't bother to reply and the room was plunged back into darkness as the door slammed shut behind them. He finally let out the pained moan he'd been holding in and slumped, letting the wall take his weight. He couldn't decide what hurt worse: his chest or his back. It was about equal. The wrist his father had stepped on was hurting too and his nose just would not stop bleeding.

Finally Bucky sighed and, with some effort, managed to tear part of his shirt free. He used the strips of fabric to stop up his nose and it _hurt_. It was absolutely broken and as he ran light, quivering fingers over it he could feel how crooked it was. It wasn't terrible, but it certainly wasn't straight. He took a slow breath and tried to put it back.

There was a small crack and he jerked back with a cry. "Damn it." He muttered as he held it again. It was straighter and the pain has lessened a little so that was good. Now if only the rest of him would stop hurting so much he'd be in good shape.

* * *

Steve's skin was practically crawling by the time he called the airport. Neither Tony nor Bruce had heard from Bucky all night, but they agreed if Bucky missed his flight check-in then they would take action. The phone was answered quickly and he was greeted with a happy "Hi. Thank you for calling Northeast Airlines at the John. F. Kennedy Airport. How can I help you?"

"I have a question about one of your passengers for a 1 pm flight, direct to LA. His name is James Barnes and I just want to know if he checked in or not." Steve informed her.

"I'm not allowed to give out personal information about our passengers." She informed him.

"Please, I'm his boyfriend and I'm afraid something might have happened to him. I haven't heard from him since yesterday and I'm really worried. Can you please just tell me if he checked in or not?" Steve insisted, making sure to sound as concerned as he felt.

She sighed. "Let me find out." She finally said, which was followed by typing.

"Thank you." He insisted sincerely as he waited. It didn't take long.

"James Barnes, 1 pm flight, direct to LA you said?" She asked.

"Yes." He confirmed immediately. There was another few keyboard sounds and Steve's open hand was tapping impatiently on his thigh as he paced. He could not sit still right now.

"I'm sorry, but no. He never checked in and that flight left ten minutes ago." She finally said and Steve barely suppressed a curse.

"Thanks anyway." He managed to say before he hung up and chucked his phone against the couch. "Damn it." He practically shouted. Then he snatched his phone back up and called Stark.

It was answered almost immediately. "So?"

"He never checked in." Steve growled.

"Shit." He heard Tony say. "Okay, what do we do?" He asked.

Steve got up and headed into his bedroom. "We go get him, of course." He answered as he opened a hidden compartment. Inside were a dozen weapons of various degrees of damage. Steve pulled out two silenced handguns before he closed it.

"Alright. Do you need a ride or should we meet you there?" Tony asked.

"Meet me." He said before he hung up. He was down in the garage in minutes, guns now hidden but easily accessible. Clint and Natasha were both already there, waiting in a car next to his bike. He accepted the offered helmet and mounted easily. "You have the address?" He asked through the intercom in his helmet.

"Of course." Natasha answered and he nodded before he shot off. They followed, but Steve outpaced them easily. On his bike he didn't have to contend with traffic quite the way they did and it was a struggle not to go even faster. But he wouldn't risk getting pulled over, not with every frantic beat of his heart screaming 'BUCKY'.


	12. Chapter 11

Bucky had officially discovered the worst part about the whole experience. It was the damn shivering. It kept his body tense, meant his injuries never stopped hurting, and kept him from sleeping like he really wanted. He was pretty sure it had been at least a few hours since he'd stabbed his father with the pen since he was starving now and his nose had stopped bleeding a while ago. But that didn't change the fact he was bloody, sore, exhausted, and freezing.

His sense of balance felt off and he was leaning against the wall heavily just to keep himself upright. His senses had started playing tricks on him, making him think there were things in the darkness with him when there weren't. At least, he was pretty sure there wasn't. It was getting harder to tell or care anymore.

"Bucky." A familiar but un-placeable voice whispered sharply in his ear and he jumped with a shout, swinging his arm towards the voice. Only to meet nothing but air.

"Damn hallucinations." He muttered before he had to rest his head against his knees as another wave of dizziness overcame him.

The whispers had escalated to phantom touches, icy fingers running up and down his spine, his arms, and his legs, before the door at the top of the stairs was opened and he could once again see. The room was still just as empty as it had been before and at least the light chased away the ghost touches and quieted the whispering. Though it was still there in the background, just waiting for the darkness to come back.

This time several men came down the stairs, including Vincent (his knee now bandaged) and the tattooed man from before who was assisting him. They were followed by three others, men dressed in matching black uniforms that were carrying some kind of small metal container. "That was not very nice of you, James." Vincent started and Bucky snorted. Or, he tried to but all he got was pain and no sound as he'd forgotten about his stuffed up and broken nose.

"Go to hell." Bucky hissed quietly and he barely resisted flinching or moaning. He throat felt so dry speaking was like swallowing sandpaper.

Apparently his father was done playing games too because all he asked, demanded almost, was "Will you sign the contract?"

"Fuck you." He growled and, despite how much it hurt, he had to admit; the roughness did give his growl a nice feral edge to it. Okay, so maybe he was a little loopy from dehydration, but it didn't change the fact. His growl _was_ more feral and it _did_ make him sound more frightening.

"Do it." His father settled into the same place against the opposite wall as the three uniformed men grabbed Bucky. He tried to fight, and did manage to get a couple decent hits in, but before long his shirt had been ripped to pieces and he was pinned in place. The tattooed man walked over to the container and opened it. Bucky frowned. It was some kind of portable grill, with hot coals already burning in the bottom.

The tattooed man picked up something resting in the coals and that's when Bucky realized. They were going to fucking _brand_ him. "No! Get off! Let me go!" He fought hard, as hard as he could. Even sank his teeth into the hand of one man hard enough to draw blood. But he was outnumbered, injured, and weak. It wasn't a long struggle.

They held him still as the tattooed man pushed the white hot brand, a simple five point star, onto the outer shoulder of his upper left arm. He screamed. He'd been beaten, hurt in all kinds of ways before, and even burned a few times. None of it compared to this. Even once the branding iron was taken away, leaving the sharp imprint of the star on his shoulder, he could still feel the heat radiating from the burn.

He slowly realized his cheeks were wet as he gasped desperately for air. The three men let him go and he simply lay where he fell. He didn't have the energy to get up. They took away the grill and branding iron, leaving only him, Vincent, and the tattooed man. Bucky did his best to glare, because he wasn't broken yet no matter how exhausted he was or how badly he hurt, and his father just watched him with a blank expression.

"You've gotten softer since you were a kid, screaming like that." Vincent finally said and Bucky just grit his teeth. He wanted to say something, but the effort of talking just felt like too much. Even breathing was hurting his throat now and his tongue felt swollen and numb. "Do you know what that brand means?" He said.

That gave Bucky the motivation to mumbled something. "That you're a psychopath who enjoys torturing people?" He offered and damn did his throat hurt. Screaming had not done him any favors in that regard, not that he'd had much of a choice. He was also amazed the comment didn't get him hit. Instead his father just chuckled.

"No, James. It means you belong to HYDRA. Like a pet, almost." Vincent said and Bucky narrowed his eyes. He had heard of HYDRA, of course; it was one of three mafia groups that had bases in New York and the rival of the other two, which included Steve's Avengers.

"What does HYDRA have to do with this?" He whispered, partially from fear because HYDRA was no joke but mostly because his throat was thrashed and he simply couldn't speak any louder. Vincent just smiled. It sent chills down Bucky's spine.

"Didn't you know?" His father pushed up his sleeve, revealing a red star tattoo on his left arm in the same place as Bucky's brand. "The Barnes family has been their ally for generations." He said before he fixed his shirt.

Bucky didn't know what to say to that. He didn't think there was anything he could say. His father looked him over as his expression sobered to it's usually firmness. "Think over what you want to do very carefully because the next time I come will be the last before I hand you over to them. And their methods are far worse than mine." Vincent warned before he left. The tattooed man left with him.

Bucky let out a whine once the door had slammed shut and his head came to rest on the cold floor. He had never been one to pray or beg or plead, especially not to any god, but right now he was doing all three for Steve. "Please hurry." He whispered. He ignored the tears that fell along with it.

* * *

Steve left his bike in front of the mansion and didn't hesitate on his way up the steps. He knocked on the door, hard. The wait until it opened was awful, but mercifully short. An old man with white hair answered. "Can I help you, sir?" He greeted politely.

"I hope so." Steve said before he shoved inside and, after a quick glance around the entryway to insure there weren't threats around (there weren't), he pinned the old man against the door. He rested the handgun he had drawn against the old man's head in a silent threat. "Where is Bucky?" He growled.

The man looked a little startled, but kept his composer better than most men would. Steve was a tiny bit impressed. "Who?" He asked and Steve leaned a little more weight on him.

"James Barnes. And don't lie. I know you know where he is so you better tell me." He demanded. The old man studied his face.

"Why?" He asked calmly. Steve was taken aback but the question was genuine, almost concerned, and obviously loaded.

"He's mine. I love him and I promised to look after him. So I'm not leaving without him." Steve answered and the man searched his eyes for a moment before he nodded.

"I'll take you to him." The old man promised quietly. Steve pushed up, allowing the man free, but didn't put away his gun. He was led through the mansion and Steve was careful to note their path as they walked. He'd need it to get out. They reached a rather innocuous looking door in a small, obscure hallway and the old man took out a key. "He's a good boy, a good man. Far better than his father and much too kind for the life he's lived. Take good care of him for me."

Steve was speechless after that sudden declaration, but the old man didn't seem to want a response as he gave Steve the key and walked away. Steve quickly shook himself out of his daze and unlocked the door. It was heavier than he expected, reinforced. Steve paused momentarily to place one of the polaroids (the least important one, him getting up from the couch) partially under the door so Clint and Natasha would be able to find him in case he couldn't get out.

Then he entered and closed the door. It left him in complete darkness so he pulled out his phone. The flashlight was more than enough to see down the stairs and he faltered at the sight that met him at the bottom. Bucky, laying face down on the cement floor wearing only his jeans and a ripped up shirt that barely covered any part of his torso. Bucky's face was turned away, but his back was a mess of bruises. Steve could also see blood all over his left forearm, though no injury, and lastly he saw the metal cuff on Bucky's ankle as the flashlight glinted off of it.

"Bucky." He practically breathed the word before he rushed forward. He briefly checked the two corners of the room that had been hidden from him on the stairwell, but the room was empty. He set his phone and drawn gun aside but within reach and gently touched Bucky's barely moving shoulders. At least he was still breathing, shallow as it was. That was when he noticed the fresh brand on Bucky's arm, a symbol he recognized right away.

_"Why HYDRA?"_ He really didn't like the implications of that, but right now he needed to know what kinds of injuries he was dealing with. He brushed Bucky's hair back, away from his face. His nose was obviously broken, with a blood trail all the way down his neck at least, and there were a number of bruises but he didn't see any concerning head wounds.

As he slowly shifted Bucky's torso, hoping to turn him over and make sure none of Bucky's ribs were broken, he realized the brunet was mumbling. Most of it was incoherent and his voice was painfully rough, but Steve was certain he heard his name in there a few times. Aside from the blood trail from his nose Bucky's chest seemed to have minimal damage. Some bruising around his stomach area, but nothing overly concerning.

He practically cradled Bucky to his chest before he whispered "Bucky." The brunet stirred a little and so Steve said it again, a little firmer. Slowly his eyes opened and he blinked blankly a few times before his expression furrowed.

"Steve?" He practically whispered and god, his voice didn't sound good. They must not have given him any water.

"Right here, Buck. Come on, we need to get out of here." He insisted and Bucky weakly pat his arm.

"Sure, Stevie. Love to. But you aren't real." He mumbled sleepily. He was already nodding off on Steve's shoulder and Steve gently but firmly shook the brunet.

"Bucky. I'm not a hallucination." Steve informed him and slowly Bucky opened his eyes again. They were much more coherent this time and actually registered his face.

"Steve?" He repeated, this time as a question, and the blond nodded.

"Yes. Come on, we need to go." He ordered and Bucky nodded. He was waking up quickly, though he still looked unnaturally pale underneath his bruises. Steve picked up his gun and held Bucky close to his chest as he aimed at the chain. Bucky jumped at the silenced gunshot but Steve soothed him. "It's okay. Just had to break the chain." He promised.

He stood, lifting Bucky up with him and carefully set Bucky on his feet. The brunet swayed for a moment before he simply just slumped over. Steve was quick to catch him before he could fall. "Sorry, Stevie." Bucky mumbled quietly into his arm.

He was taking basically all of Bucky's weight and was glad that he was strong enough that he could. "It's okay. I've got you." He promised soothingly. He turned Bucky around, so his back was against Steve's arm, and was about to pick him up in a bridal carry when the door at the top of the stairs opened.


	13. Chapter 12

Steve set him down gently, but a bit too abruptly for his brain to handle and the world spun. Bucky found himself leaning once again on the wall for even a minimal sense of up and down while Steve knelt in front of him protectively. The blond's back was to him and Steve held two handguns, one in each hand, aimed towards the stairwell.

Bucky reached out for Steve's shirt and leaned forward to press his head against Steve's back as two footsteps echoed came down the steps. Steve adjusted his weight slightly at the touch, but didn't say anything. Bucky was glad because Steve was warm. Bucky knew by sound the visitors were his father, who was limping, and probably the tattooed man again because the other wore boots (steel toed, his back reminded him with a twinge).

Both footsteps faltered at the bottom of the stairs. "Well, this is unexpected." Vincent said and Bucky really wish he could snort now because it was the perfect time. But since he couldn't even breathe through his nose at present he didn't bother to attempt it.

"You must be his father." Steve replied casually.

"Vincent Barnes. And yourself?" Vincent asked almost politely. Bucky tightened his grip on Steve's shirt a little, a silent warning not to trust his pleasant tone.

"Just the man who loves him." Steve answered but before Vincent could speak he continued. "And has the resources to destroy everything you've built."

Vincent laughed. "Really? Naivety really is a trait for the young. This is a family matter, boy, and so far out of your league. Just leave now and maybe you won't get hurt."

"Guess it's a good thing Bucky isn't your family then." Steve countered and for a moment Vincent paused. Bucky leaned out a little so he could see his father. He wasn't obviously confused, but Bucky could see hints of it in his expression. "You disowned him. Over 8 years ago. Or have you forgotten that in your old age?" Steve reminded at the silence.

"He's my son." Vincent informed him, like that was some big reveal and Steve laughed.

"Oh really? Then I wonder what the FBI would think of your treatment of him. Imprisonment. Beatings and abuse of all kinds, now and when he was young. Attempted coercion. Branding him with a known symbol of the Russian Mafia with the intent to give him to them as a slave. Oh, and the best little gem; your failed attempt to forcefully sterilize him through illegal medication as a teenager." Steve said. Both Bucky and Vincent flinched, but for very different reasons.

Bucky pressed his head harder against Steve's back, wondering when the blonde had learned all this about him and unable to still the shaking in his hands.

"How do you know about that?" Vincent asked. He sounded shaken too.

"I could just say Bucky told me, but that's not nearly as impressive or convincing. No, as soon as I learned his real name I had my agents do some background research and they are very thorough. They also have standing orders to send all of this, along with the evidence we've dug up of your family and company's connection to HYDRA, to the US government if anything happens to Bucky or me." Steve informed him.

All Bucky could think was 'checkmate'.

Bucky was also quite certain he had never seen his father go so pale before. "You bastard! Who are you?" Vincent finally snapped, almost screamed, and Bucky could feel the chill in the air from Steve's smile. A chill that didn't reach him.

"My name is Steve Rogers. But you might know me better as Captain, head of the Avengers." Steve informed him. Even the tattooed man looked surprised or maybe concerned at that.

"You've heard of me, surely. Of what I've done, especially to homophobic men like you? What kind of vengeance do you think you'll receive, as the man who brutalized and tortured the love of my life? Because I can imagine quite a lot." And he sounded like he would enjoy it too.

"Shoot him!" Vincent ordered. Bucky grabbed Steve's shirt tighter, ready to use whatever strength he had left to make sure the bullet didn't land in Steve's body, but the tattooed man didn't go for his gun.

There was a pause before Steve spoke. "He won't." Immediately Vincent's attention was back on the blond. Steve looked at the tattooed man and said something in another language. "Ge bithcò bhios a 'cumail an òrd seo, ma bhios e airidh…"

"Bidh cumhachd Thor aige. Tha mi aig do sheirbheis." The tattooed man replied with a bow of his head, which seemed to confused Vincent further. Bucky didn't know what was going on anymore, but Steve had yet to move from his protective stance and seemed to have a handle on things. So Bucky decided to just... Trust him.

Steve answered, something that sounded almost polite, before he looked back to Vincent. "Now, this can go down one of two ways. You can let us leave without a fight and I'll let you spend the rest of your short remaining life in relative peace. Or, you can try to stop us from leaving and find out exactly why The Avengers and SHIELD are the only mafia left in the United States, including a personal lesson from me on homophobia and how much it hurts."

Bucky had forgotten, or maybe never really realized, exactly how much power Steve actually had. And the man in front of him now; it was his Steve and it wasn't. This person was so much more than the closet guitar-player and artist Bucky had fallen for two years ago. He was almost more than an ordinary man. And yet, under his hands, Bucky could still feel the very real warmth coming off his back. Could feel the very real heartbeat racing through his body. And he was struck by the strange realization that this... almost god among men loved him.

Bucky couldn't hold back a groan as the world tilted suddenly around him. The dizziness must have come back with a grudge because even his vision flickered. He clung to Steve's back for something stable to hold onto.

"Bucky?" Came a concerned question from Steve.

" 'm alright. Jus' dizzy." He mumbled softly. The world still felt less than stable as it spun around him, but at least like this, his head pressed to Steve's back... He trusted Steve wouldn't let him fall. Steve shifted, leaning forward slightly and Bucky realized he was trying to take more of Bucky's weight. Even if the brunet wanted to fight it, he wasn't sure he had the strength anymore and let Steve hold him upright.

He was starting to have trouble keeping his eyes open again. Steve's back was surprisingly comfortable and the warmth was making him tired. "Alright, time's up. We doing this the easy way or the fun way?" Steve asked, but his voice sounded distant to Bucky.

"You aren't the only one with men, Captain." Actually, just everything was sounding distant to Bucky now.

"No. But I'm willing to bet mine are more loyal and better trained." Steve replied easily. There was a noise, followed by a thump that Bucky was pretty sure was the sound of someone hitting the ground.

"He's clear, Tasha." Steve said as he lowered the guns, tucking them back into wherever he had drawn them from. "One of Thor's." He added as he shifted and Bucky slowly tipped forward, unable to hold himself upright without help. It wasn't until Steve was facing him, holding his face gently and looking into his eyes, that Bucky realized he'd turned around. "Still with me, Buck?" Steve asked gently.

Bucky nodded, only to groan as the movement sent everything spiraling again. Steve was quick to gather him up and hold him close to his chest. It felt great to have something strong and stable to keep his steady because the floor wasn't level anymore. "Shh, easy. I've got you, Buck. Go ahead and rest." Steve insisted softly.

Bucky wanted to object. He wanted to stay aware. To know what was happening. Wanted to be able to protect himself or Steve if necessary. But he was hurting and utterly exhausted and Steve was so warm and he felt so safe. Protected. Treasured. His eyes closed almost as soon as the words had left Steve's mouth.

* * *

Steve had to force down the flash of concern that had risen the moment Bucky went limp. But his charge, the precious man in his arms, was still warm and breathing and Steve was going to make damn sure he stayed that way. He stood easily enough, despite the extra weight. Bucky was a little heavier than he could carry comfortably (the downfall of both of them having muscles) but he had no intention of put Bucky down until he had to.

Natasha was standing at the foot of the steps, hand resting on her gun as she eyed the tattooed man despite Steve's assurance he was clear. Clint was standing over Bucky's unconscious father, gun drawn and aimed at his head. And then there was Thor's man, waiting calmly in the corner.

"How is he?" Natasha asked without taking her eyes off the tattooed man.

"He's hurt, but nothing life threatening as far as I can tell. But he wasn't given anything to eat or drink so he does need medical attention and soon." Steve added and she nodded. He looked at the tattooed man.

"I will not stop you, of course. If I had known he was yours, Captain, I would not have hurt him so seriously. My sincerest apologies and I will accept punishment if you deem it necessary." The man said.

Steve shook his head. "No. And you have my apologies for blowing your cover." Steve replied and the man shook his head as well.

"It was for a worthy cause and besides; now I can go home." He certainly didn't sound disappointed about that and Steve smiled at him.

"Tell Thor I said hello and that he should come by sometime. It's been a while." Steve requested as he started walking towards the stairs.

Natasha moved out of his way, but Clint stopped him when he spoke. "And this pig?"

Steve glanced at Vincent, still unconscious from Natasha's taser. "Take him to Warehouse 3. I'll settle up with him after I get Bucky to a hospital." Steve decided. Clint nodded once and Steve went up the stairs unobstructed this time.

It was a little bright for his eyes, though he adapted quickly, and he hoped Bucky stayed asleep or it would really hurt his eyes. The front door had been left open and just as he stepped out into the sunlight another car pulled up. Steve twisted, blocking Bucky from view and preparing to draw one of his guns when he realized who it was.

"Bucky!" Tony leapt out of the driver's seat almost before the car had stopped. Steve met him at the bottom of the steps. "Oh god, is he okay? There's so much blood. What happened?" Tony demanded in a rapidfire.

"He'll be fine, but he should get to a hospital." Steve said.

"We'll take him." Bruce offered immediately. Steve hesitated for a moment, but it was the best option. If he let them take Bucky, he could escort Bucky's father to the warehouse and have the whole mess mostly taken care of before the brunet even woke up. Hopefully. He doubted it would be nearly that easy, sadly.

"Okay." He agreed. Bruce had gotten out and opened the back door for him. Steve set Bucky down carefully, and the brunet stirred when Steve moved away, moaning softly. Steve brushed the hair from off his forehead, wincing once again at his broken nose. "Shh, it's okay, Buck. It's just Bruce and Tony. They'll take care of you, get you to a hospital, and I'll be there before you wake up." He promised softly before he kissed Bucky's forehead.

After making sure Bucky was settled he stepped back. Bruce had already claimed the seat next to him and started looking over Bucky wounds as Steve turned to Tony. "We'll take care of him, I promise." Tony said.

"I know. I'm going to send either Clint or Natasha your way as soon as I can, just to be safe. And I'll be there myself as soon as I get this mess sorted." He promised.

Tony nodded and went back around the car, only to pause. He studied Steve's face for a few minutes before he said "You still owe us an explanation."

"You'll get one." He promised.

"Tony, let's go. We need to get Bucky to a hospital." Bruce ordered and Steve took a small bit of comfort from the fact that, while Bruce sounded demanding it wasn't panicked. Tony gave him one last look before he swung into the driver's seat and took off down the driveway at a speed slightly too fast to be properly safe.

When Steve turned back around Natasha was at the front door, along with Clint and Thor's man who were dragging Bucky's father. "Tasha, take the bike and follow Tony to the hospital. Protect Bucky if you have to and make sure he's getting the best care possible. I'll cover any costs if needed." Steve ordered.

"I'm sure Tony will take care of the second part, but I won't let you down." She promised before she took a seat on Steve's motorcycle, donned the helmet, and shot off.

Steve watched her go before he looked back at Clint, who had somewhat haphazardly dragged Bucky's father down the stairs. Steve didn't feel remotely bad for him. "Put him in the trunk and let's go." Steve ordered. Clint groaned almost playfully, but dragged the man over to the trunk of the car. "Coming with or going straight home?" Steve asked Thor's man.

"Home. I'm sure you'll extract a suitable revenge on that man even in my absence." Thor's man said and Steve nodded. He would indeed. He pat the man's shoulder before he took the driver's seat in the car. Clint climbed into the passenger side and then they were gone.


	14. Chapter 13 - Part One End

The first thing Bucky felt wasn't really a feeling of its own, but rather the absence of any pain. The second was that he was warm and comfortable. He didn't want to open his eyes just yet because he felt good and there was a reasonably high chance he was having a long, detailed hallucination or dream. But his impatience quickly won out and after only a few seconds he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was white but textured. Not light gray cement. As he looked around he quickly realized he was in a private and no doubt expensive hospital room with warm tan walls. Twisting his head slightly he was able to see the equipment around his head, including an IV in his arm and a heart rate monitor. On his other side was more equipment, but most importantly; Steve and Tony, sitting on opposite ends of a couch.

Tony looked very much exhausted, head on his hand as he nodded off sitting upright. Steve was considering something heavily, his eyes trained at the ground and a morose expression on his face. Bucky tried to move his hand, the one free of the IV. It didn't move much, but that plus the soft noise he managed to make from his throat was enough to get Steve's attention.

He got up so fast Bucky was shocked he didn't wake Tony and then he was at Bucky's side, taking his free hand and holding it gently. "Hey, you're awake." Steve said softly, and he sounded so happy. Bucky nodded a little. The world wasn't sent twirling again so that was a good sign.

He tried to say "how long was I out?" but failed to even get the "how" out as anything more than a breathy wheeze. His throat actually didn't hurt despite how dry it felt and Bucky praised whatever painkillers they had him on. Steve seemed to understand as a straw found its way to Bucky's mouth and he eagerly took a sip.

The cold water felt like bliss for his throat, but Steve wouldn't let him take more than a sip at a time before pulling the straw away. "Doctor's orders. We don't want you throwing it up." Steve teased quietly and Bucky pouted. But he still accepted the water every time Steve offered it.

Bucky tapped the bed to get Steve's attention and the blond glanced at his hand before looking at his face. "What is it?" He asked.

Bucky hummed and tapped impatiently, but it became clear quite quickly Steve had no idea what he was trying to convey (which was fair, if he were honest). Steve looked confused and concerned and finally Bucky just made a writing motion with his hand. "Oh. One second." Steve set down the water and grabbed something from one of the shelves near his head.

It was a whiteboard. Even with Steve holding it for him Bucky struggled to write what he wanted. His handwriting was god awful, but legible enough. It was two words and it took him longer than it should have to write them. 'how long'

"Oh, of course. Only about 18 hours and before you get fussy; Tony and I both agreed that the doctor should give you a sedative so you could rest." Steve added and Bucky pouted again because he was about to be 'fussy', as Steve had so nicely put it. 18 hours was a long time.

He messily rubbed off the word 'long' and wrote 'bad'. 'how bad'

"Overall, you were pretty lucky, honestly. It's mostly bruises, and though you've got a few internal ones that are going to hurt for a while you should heal up just fine. They got your nose straightened out and once it's healed there shouldn't really be any visible signs it was broken aside from some maybe some minor discoloration." Steve informed him.

Bucky let out a breath and leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes. That was lucky. After taking a few moments to just breath he opened his eyes again. Steve was watching him closely, obviously worried, and Bucky offered him a little half smirk that was more of a smile. Steve visibly relaxed at the sight. Bucky sobered a little and bit his lip (which, ow, even with pain killers it was still bruised and swollen). Then he nodded at his left arm.

Steve frowned but sighed heavily. Bucky was glad he didn't need to elaborate. "It's not great. It will scar, and probably pretty visibly too. Skin grafts might be an option, but we wanted to talk to you first since it would add time to your recovery and may not help all that much." Steve informed him. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes again.

It felt like too much to consider right now. A gently hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up at Steve. "You okay, Buck?" He asked. Bucky nodded and picked up his pen.

'Feels like a lot'

Steve nodded. "That's understandable, after everything. The doctors have also recommended you go to therapy since..." Bucky shook his head, stopping Steve before he could get any further.

"You don't want to go to therapy, Bucky? Why not?" He jumped slightly as Bruce seemingly appeared on his other side. He must have come in when Bucky's eyes were closed. Maybe he fell asleep briefly without realizing it. Or maybe his spacial awareness just wasn't quite up to par yet.

'Don't need it' He wrote.

"Bucky…" Bruce looked ready to start a lecture but took a breath and sighed instead. "Alright. I won't force you, especially not while you're still healing. Did Steve catch you up on the injuries you have?" Bruce asked. Bucky nodded. "Okay, good. Did he mention the head injury?" Bucky paused and shook his head, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eyes.

"I forgot." Steve offered with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Bruce just huffed softly and looked back at Bucky. "At some point you hit your head pretty hard on something." (Bucky had a good guess: it was right after the kick to the face that had broken his nose.) "We didn't notice it right away because you weren't bleeding but there is some internal swelling and you've got a concussion. Now, luckily you don't seem to be having any memory problems and it should heal up just fine on it's own over the next few days, but you need to tell someone if anything happens. Any headaches, nausea, hallucinations, if you forget things or lose periods of time, anything. Because the sooner we can counteract it the less like there will be permanent damage." Bruce warned and Bucky nodded.

A soft groan from the couch interrupted them before either Bruce or Steve could speak. They all turned to look at Tony, who stifled a yawn and then finally noticed what was happening. "Bucky!" He jumped up and joined Bruce. "Finally up? Good. You really scared us, you know." Tony scolded. Bucky noticed he almost subconsciously wrapped an arm around Bruce's waist, who simply settled into the hold.

Bucky shrugged, a little smirk on his face. He hoped Tony understood the message; something along the lines of 'you know me; always attracting trouble'.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked and he gave Tony a look. He was already getting tired of people asking him that and he had a feeling he'd be hearing it a lot more over the next few days. "If you're up to glaring you can't feel that bad." Tony said as he held up his hands in surrender.

They lapsed into a silence and then Bucky tapped the whiteboard with his pen again. Steve quickly held it up for him. 'What happened to dear old dad?' He was pleased that his hand was steadier, stronger, and his handwriting was better.

Tony and Bruce both looked at Steve. "I believe you promised us the whole story." Tony directed to Steve, before he added to Bucky "He wanted to wait until you were up so we only had to go over it once." Bucky nodded in understanding and looked back at Steve.

"Okay. Bucky, stop me if I get something wrong, but I'll tell you what I know. I believe you both are aware of Bucky's history with his father?" Steve asked and the couple nodded. "Okay. Then I'll start with this. The Barnes family line can be traced back to Russia. This is a few generations back, mind you. I can only assume it was there that they became associated with the mafia group HYDRA and they continued that association even once they immigrated to the US."

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but a raised eyebrow from Steve, a glare from Bucky, and a pinch from Bruce shut him up before he said anything. He just frowned and rubbed his arm as he motioned for Steve to continue.

"We found a contract, between Alexander Pierce's business conglomerate and the Barnes Corporation, that basically stated Bucky would marry Pierce's daughter and merge the two groups, both of whom are HYDRA associates. Their union would greatly strengthen HYDRA's hold in the US." Steve said.

"That's why his father wanted to see him." Bruce stated and Steve nodded.

"Exactly." Steve confirmed. "And when Bucky understandably said no his father locked him up and tried to force him. That about sum it up?" Steve asked Bucky.

'Yes.' Bucky wrote then, before anyone could start asking more questions, he rubbed it away and started writing again. 'Steve, what happened with the tattooed guy?'

"What tattooed guy?" Tony asked as Steve sighed.

Steve held up his hand and took a break. "Okay. As briefly as I can; I'm the leader of the mafia group The Avengers. We're one of two that basically hold power over the US. The other is SHIELD and we're... allied, for lack of a better term. Avengers primarily handle the east coast and SHIELD the west. Neither of us like HYDRA, which had been trying to overthrow us for a long time, with limited success. With me so far?"

All three nodded. Bucky had already known most of this, but it was a nice refresher. Whether Tony or Bruce had known previously (since he'd never gone into that much details about Steve's position), Bucky couldn't say.

"Just like how I'm allied with SHIELD I have other allies around the world." Steve pulled down his shirt to reveal several of his tattoos. Bucky had seen them all before, but hadn't known their meaning. Steve motioned to one that looked like a black seal with a bird silhouette, smaller and resting just below his right collarbone. "That's SHIELD."

He pointed to larger circular one in the center of his chest, but this one was in three colors; red, white, and blue in layers with a white star in the middle. "Mine, the head of the Avengers. And the Avengers is here." He pointed to a spot just below his symbol that was covered by the shirt. Bucky knew it was a slightly smaller black tattoo of an A with an arrow and a circle behind it.

And then finally he pointed to what looked to be a celtic knot almost mirrored in location and size from the SHIELD symbol. "This is the important one for this discussion. It's the symbol for Thor Odinson's Asgardians. They're a Northern European mafia group I met while I was traveling, primarily based in Norway. You heard me speak another language?" He asked Bucky, who nodded. "It's Gaelic. A code used by Thor's gang to denote their loyalty to him, especially for non-member allies like me. The tattooed man was one of Thor's spies, no doubt trying to get information on HYDRA. And because I'm a personal friend and ally of Thor he agreed to help us." Steve explained.

Tony looked mildly impressed while Bruce looked slightly confused. Bucky just settled deeper against the pillows then tapped the whiteboard with his pen. That was a much more audible sound than tapping his fingers on the mattress; nice. Steve immediately turned his attention to Bucky, who nodded at the water cup sitting on the tray at the foot of his bed.

"Right, of course." Steve grabbed it and quickly offered it to him. Bucky eagerly took a sip. "Any questions?" Steve asked.

Tony and Bruce both shook their heads but Bucky tapped the whiteboard again and wrote 'my dad?' as he gave Steve a firm expression. The blond set his hand over Bucky's and then took away the pen and wiped the whiteboard clean.

"It's taken care of." He promised. Bucky's expression turned into a concerned frown. He didn't like that answer and he had a nasty feeling Steve had done something. But before he could try and actually voice his objection, because damn Steve for taking his whiteboard, the blond ran a finger down his forehead all the way to his lips.

The tension in his face and through the rest of his body faded all on its own at the touch (a trigger he hadn't realized was left over from his month living with Steve) and Steve offered him a smile. "You should get some more rest." He insisted. Bucky frowned but a glance at Tony and Bruce said they agreed with Steve.

'This discussion isn't over.' He mouthed carefully and Steve just smiled. He ran his fingers soothingly through Bucky's hair and before he realized it he was asleep.

**AN: This is the end, technically. But there are a few options for more if you guys are interested. I can continue this story, obviously. I could also write a sort-of prequel about Steve and Bucky's month together. Maybe a bonus chapter of what happened to Vincent if you guys want things to get dark. Or, if you have any other suggestions or requests (highlights of Tony and Bucky's high school years, some stuff with Tony and Bruce, etc) please let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading :)**


	15. Chapter 14 - Steve's Vengeance

**This is Steve's vengeance for what happened to Bucky so just be warned: This Chapter Is Really Rated R. Swearing, torture, language, etc. So, just, you have been warned. Please skip if you need to: there isn't anything story-important here.**

* * *

The abandoned warehouse was, of course, abandoned. On the outside. Inside there were four men, two at each door. Just as Steve had ordered they had set up a table of supplies and the chains were hanging from the rafters, ready for their prisoner. Steve looked over the tools on the table as his men got Vincent Barnes strung up.

"Ready, sir." Clint informed him and Steve nodded. He set down the knife in his hand and picked up the bucket of ice water that had been prepared. Vincent Barnes woke up abruptly and sputtering when Steve splashed him with it. He gave the older man a minute or two to recover, as well as realize what was going on.

"Let me go this instant." Vincent ordered and Steve just raised an eyebrow, because it was of course followed up with "You won't get away with this."

Steve had to resist the urge to say 'I already have', no matter how true it was. Instead he just hummed and moved over to the table to pick up a stun stick. "By the time anyone finds you you'll be dead. But I'm going to cause you a lot of pain in the meantime." He warned casually.

Vincent scoffed. "You can hurt me all you like. It won't change what's going to happen."

Steve moved over to him and started cutting his shirt free, being careful not to actually cut the man. "What is going to happen?" He asked as he worked.

"HYDRA is going to win." Vincent said and Steve nodded as he took a deep breath.

"Are they? Care to share how?" Steve asked lightly and Vincent's expression furrowed. It seemed he'd finally figured it out and Steve could have laughed at how long it had taken.

"You won't get a thing from me." Vincent spat angrily.

Steve just hummed again as he ran the knife across Vincent's chest, not even hard enough to draw blood yet but he did leave a mark. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't. I'd prefer the former, but you forget. This isn't an interrogation. It's revenge." Steve gave Vincent a dark smile before he stepped back and put down the knife.

Steve picked up the acetylene torch, a brand new addition to his arsenal. He picked up a metal rod from the table and started running the torch over the end until it was white hot. Clint took the torch as Steve walked back over to Vincent with the rod. "You know, I've never branded someone before." He offered before he pressed the metal across Vincent's lower back.

The man let out a strangled cry, like a scream that couldn't quite make it out of his throat. Steve could smell the way his flesh burned but kept the rod there for a few seconds, until the glowing had started to fade from the metal, before he pulled it away. Then he studied the mark. "That's not bad. Painful, non-lethal, self-cauterizing so I don't have to worry about blood loss. Not bad at all." Steve looked at the rod then moved to see Vincent's face.

The man was paler than before, and panting as he slumped. He didn't look up to meet Steve's eyes and Steve frowned. "Come on now. That's all the fight you've got? I'm disappointed." Steve declared. Vincent did look up at those words and glared at him. "Better." Steve moved back over to the table, set down the still slightly red rod, and picked up one of the tasers. "This is another non-lethal thing I've added to my arsenal. You know what the worst part about being tazed is for men like you?" Steve asked.

"You bastard." Vincent growled and Steve just rolled his eyes. He wished just once that someone would actually play along instead of just cuss him out. He might ever let them live, if they did, because it never seemed to happen. Not this particular victim, but another one. Maybe.

"The worst part isn't the pain, because you've learned how to handle that. No, the worst part is the humiliation because when I taser you you're going to pee your pants just like a child." Steve said and for a moment Vincent looked confused. And then Steve tazed him. It only took a matter of seconds, during which Vincent's body convulsed, before Steve could smell it.

He returned the taser to the table and looked at Clint, who had set aside the acetylene torch. "Have they found anything in the house?" Steve asked and Clint nodded.

"Mostly just more proof to back up what we already knew. But they did find a contract regarding Bucky." Clint informed him and Steve frowned.

"What did it say?" Steve asked.

"It was mostly a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, but ultimately it stated that James Barnes was to marry Alexander Pierce's daughter. After the marriage he would inherit and merge the groups, who are both HYDRA affiliates." Clint said and Steve frowned.

"We had our suspicions about Pierce. Good to know he is HYDRA. Make sure Fury knows." Clint nodded and Steve glanced back at their guest, who was slowly recovering from the taser. "There is one thing that doesn't add up to me." He muttered. Clint raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as Steve started wrapping his fists.

He moved back over and stood in front of Vincent. The man glared at him and Steve just smiled. "You're a bastard." The man growled and Steve's smile widened.

"From you? I'll take that title with pride. Now, I just found out about your contract with Pierce…" That made his eyes widen, but Steve kept speaking. "And I have one question. You planned to give control both groups to Bucky, but he's not a HYDRA supporter. What were you going to do to him?" Steve asked.

Vincent snickered. "It must be eating at you, not to know what you need to protect that fag from. Because they will take him. This has been in the works for a long time and there's nothing you can do to stop it." Vincent said and Steve just rolled his eyes.

"I'm getting tired of the clichés." Steve adjusted the wrappings on his hands and let the coldest expression he had settle on his face. When he met Vincent's eyes the man flinched. "All I want to know is what you were going to do to him." Steve said.

"I wasn't going to do anything but hand him over." Vincent sounded smug but faltered when Steve glared at him. "HYDRA was going to make him… complaint." Vincent finally offered.

"Compliant? You mean break and brainwash him." Steve corrected. He had heard about HYDRA's practice. How they had basically perfected the technique of turning people into puppets. Little more than living shells who obeyed whatever HYDRA told them. The thought of Bucky like that… broken, spiritless, empty...

It was rare Steve's rage came so strongly, but this time it broke like a thunderstorm. Even so, each and every punch was calculated. He wasn't about to let Vincent bleed out or die from internal injuries. After twenty minutes of using the man as a punching bag Steve felt a little better. His rage hadn't settled exactly, so much as morphed into a protective drive that was making him itch to get to the hospital. But he wasn't quite done yet. He unwrapped his hands and picked up a knife.

"So, I'm sure you've heard what I usually do to homophobes. Now, I can make this really, really painful. Or you can offer me some information that's a little more valuable and I'll make this not so painful." Steve informed Vincent.

Vincent glared at him and growled "Go to hell."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." Steve smiled as he ran his fingers over the knife. It was one of his favorites, that he always saved exactly for this purpose. "You know, it's a little funny. When I finally got to see him again Bucky said one of his friends had threatened to castrate me. I don't think they realized that I've actually done it." Steve looked up from the knife to see Vincent go very pale.

Steve quickly freed Vincent from his pants and underwear, being careful to avoid any wetness. The man seemed to be in shock and Steve twirled the knife around in his fingers before he cut the man's penis off in one strike. Vincent did scream and Steve just stepped back to avoid the blood before he put the knife on the table.

"I'm going to the hospital." He informed Clint, who nodded.

"Okay. What do we do with him?" Clint nodded at the now sobbing Vincent. Steve took a breath as he considered it.

"Let him bleed out then dump him on Pierce's doorstep. That ought to make a statement." Steve said and Clint smiled darkly.

"That it will. Let me know Bucky's condition as soon as you find out." Clint requested and Steve nodded. He left the warehouse, examined his clothes to make sure there wasn't any sign of what he'd been up to, and ordered the driver to take him to the hospital. He had a promise to a lovely brunet to keep.


End file.
